


For Love of Justice

by animasevera



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, OT3, Romance, and justice for hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animasevera/pseuds/animasevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justice has grown ill of simply being a footnote in the relationship between Anders and a certain distracting mortal. Now, he seeks to understand the nature of the power she holds over his vessel, as well as the nature of their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice learns that Hawke is far more than just a distraction.  
> Content Warnings: Food/eating, derealization, panic attacks.

A distraction.

That’s what he used to call her, before.

Before he felt the heat in her skin and the pounding of her heart, and the passion in her veins.

Before long, bony fingers made their way through soft, fire-gold waves.

Before strong arms took him and his weakened, trembling vessel against a bosom full of trust and sympathy.

Before tender hands, lightly callused from her work with a staff and the cutting of countless healing herbs, cupped a squared jaw and strong chin, drawing them together so their lips could meet and catch one another in a maddening tangle of emotions and sense.

And this was just what she had done for Anders.

For the first time since the spirit had taken up residence in the mage’s mind, someone had tried to reach out specifically to him.

When Anders voiced their concerns, Hawke provided a willing ear. Through the Fade, her passion for the mages’ cause burned against Justice’s perception like a torch. She brought him and Anders into closer harmony, while acknowledging him as a distinct being in his own right. She had a fear of him, but it was not irrational - it was a healthy fear that allowed her to guide him back to his purpose. Her eyes saw certain formidability, but not a demon. She offered more effort to reach out to him than restrain him. When their consciousnesses touched through the film of Anders’ skin, there was something he found harmonious.

She thirsted for justice - the concept - enough to seek it out and render it where she could, for better and worse, and she did it with such fervency that it genuinely surprised the spirit. It was a purer, clearer melody than the maddening din of Anders’ mind, and he could hear it every time she spoke. Every touch she offered brought with it new notes. Notes of understanding and sympathy, so rarely felt they were unrecognizable. Chords of truth and trust, where none seemed to be deserved.

It suddenly seemed as if Justice had no place to speak of distractions any longer. He found himself now the one likewise thirsting for Hawke. He could feel every throb of Anders’ heart inside his ribs echoing through his awareness, like being trapped in a cage and banging against the bars. He surged to the surface for a fraction of a second, grasping at his chest.

 _Good, my heart’s still beating,_ thought Anders, letting out a heavy sigh. _Lungs still working. Breathing’s not too bad. Bit short, though._ His pulse went down just a bit, but Justice still felt that there was a live animal writhing around inside. Aside from that, though, his vessel seemed to be feeling well.

At least, until the inevitable growling of his empty gut. Justice cringed at the unpleasant sensation, noting that it had not bothered him so much before Anders had begun interacting with Hawke. Anders himself barely thought about the functions that kept him alive, but every moment of it was a test of the spirit’s resolve.

Anders sighed and stretched, his sinews growing taut and stiff with each movement. More of his awareness revealed that he was not at the desk he remembered falling asleep at, but laying in Hawke’s bed with the sheets tangled around his legs. Carefully, he cracked the tension out of his neck with a grinding crunch so sharp it made him gasp and Justice feel as sick as a spirit could get. A throbbing ache crawled up his back and into his head, making him whine under his breath and turn onto his side. He tried to summon some mana for a healing spell, but found himself frustratingly lacking. His stomach immediately tightened its walls, causing him to drop back to the bed and curl up with his hands pressed into the hollow below his rib cage. Already, the flashbacks were making their usual rounds in his head, leaving him to fold himself up even tighter and shiver as the memory of a cold dungeon cell crept into his skin and clung to the edges of Justice’s awareness.

He had forgotten how many days had passed since a Templar last brought him a browned apple and some bread he would swear had begun to grow mold. He had spent an hour or so a day drifting between wakefulness and sleep, visions from the Fade clawing at his sanity. Sometimes, it was all too easy to believe they intended to leave him there and let him starve to death.

The Fade cracked through his skin as Justice rushed to seize control with a roar, throwing his vessel bolt upright in bed.

Footsteps came thundering through the hall, and Hawke threw the door open until it hit the wall. “Anders!” she cried out, scrambling to his side. “Anders, it’s me,” she immediately started reassuring him, “It’s Lys. You’re fine, love.” The glow of Justice’s eyes made her hesitant to touch the mage, no matter how much she wanted to gather him into her arms.

Before the panicked rage could reach his skin, that familiar song came back to shroud the spirit. His vessel was forced to hug his knees, then bury his face in his hands as he tried to fight the intrusive thoughts and memories.

Hawke answered her lover’s discomfort with a careful, gentle peck next to his brow. “I’m here,” she murmured against the shell of his ear, cautiously watching him in case the panic took him over.

Hunger and stress made his stomach clench to aching and his body shake with weakness. Tears were uncontrollably streaming from his eyes, and every muscle in his body had wound itself into shackling tightness. His heart pounded violently as Justice tried to break free of the cursed remembrance.

Worry crept up the back of Hawke’s throat. The moment she reached for him again, his eyes flickered blue, making her quickly pull her hand away. “Justice, it’s Hawke,” she said, firmly aloud. “I’m here to help. Would you let me?”

The song Justice sensed became more distinct and recognizable. Emotions flared up in Anders’ mind at the sound of that familiar voice, even more at the touch of her lips to his skin.

Maker, they felt so weak. Physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually, Anders was almost completely devoid of energy and sense, and Justice could feel the space between them blurring until he floated to the surface of Anders’ consciousness like a corpse to the top of a lake.

 **“Hawke…”** they groaned together, Anders’ part of it being more of a whine. Justice forced his host’s limbs loose from the tight ball he had curled into, and they both latched onto her with all their strength. At last, they sighed away the worst of the tension into her chest.

“That’s right, love,” she answered, hooking her arms around him and rocking with him in a slow metronome. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The tangible reality of her presence had at last confirmed itself to Justice and Anders both. Shaky, quiet sobs spilled into Hawke’s waiting bosom. He hissed her name too quietly to hear, tensing up as he felt his empty stomach seize and rumble again.

Lysandra frowned, rubbing the quivering apostate’s back. “Come on, pup, let’s get you fed.” She already knew all too well that he had been neglecting care of himself in favor of his manifesto again. Rather than berate him about it, she offered a wisp of healing magic to ease the aches in his body and slid off the bed, keeping hold of his hand and guiding him to the edge.

Anders wiped the tears from his eyes with his other hand, and his back bowed into a tired slouch. “I’m sorry, Lys…” he lamented, nursing his hungry belly with the same hand. “I…Maker, I just got so focused on…”

“The manifesto,” She finished his sentence before he had the chance to lose track of his thoughts again. Sheltering him with an arm, she took a string from a drawer and used it to tie his hair back. Another little healing spell rubbed into his temples dulled what was undoubtedly a throbbing headache. “You were working on the first new page…but you fell asleep and smudged the ink.”

Justice was the one listening more closely. The song in her voice was one he had no power in him to ignore, but it soothed the aches of both him and his host. Blue lines ghosted from the wrinkles in his forehead, and he let his head fall against her shoulder. “Love, I…could I lie back down?” he asked, his voice cracking with weakness.

He had hardly asked before she eased him back down onto the bed. “Of course…just hold tight a bit and I’ll have something ready for you.” She offered a tender massage full of mana to his stomach and an affectionate kiss to his forehead, lingering with him for a pause of breath before making her way to the kitchen.

When Hawke left his line of sight, he stared at the ceiling and sighed with relief, together with Justice. The spirit had wrapped himself around the echo of Hawke’s presence, studying the details of Anders’ memory. Anders clung to his lover’s face in his mind, willing himself to think of more pleasant things. Justice, meanwhile, had grown obsessed with his experiences. For all the misery his empty stomach caused him, it was an effective reminder of the suffering of his fellow mages. Lines of his manifesto floated through their shared mind like bubbles through the air, bursting into scattered words and phrases. His quill hand twitched restlessly, and he lifted himself up to glance around the room to find the parchment. “Suppose I can sneak a few lines in before she gets back…” he muttered aloud.

The moment he stood up, though, his stomach loudly rejected the idea and he sank back onto the bed. “Argh, Maker’s breath…” he whined, curling up on his side. “There went that idea…” Already, Justice was ill at ease - he was never satisfied simply laying there. With a frustrated grunt, Anders threw aside the covers and made a beeline downstairs and to the den.

The smell of sweet spices drifted through the air, practically ensnaring the mage and leading him to Hawke stirring a simmering pot. Without a word between them, he girded her waist with his arms and rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder. “Morning, sweetheart…Justice changed his mind and I got restless.”

“I don’t blame him,” Hawke answered, leaning back against him and kissing the ridge of his jaw. “I’d be restless too if my host let himself get into such a state.” Turning to face him, she tucked a hand between them and rested it over his heart as she leaned in toward his ear. “Don’t worry, Justice, I’ve got you both taken care of.”

Anders found himself with a growing blush, and the fluttering of his heart seized Justice’s attention. With words alone, she was able to cause such a deep reaction in him. “I’m sorry, love, I just got a bit too focused on the manifesto and–”

His words were cut off by an offering of a spoonful of Hawke’s concoction. “Here, try this. I’m experimenting a little.”

The apostate let out a soft whine as the aroma of new spices took over his senses. “Maker’s breath, Lys…are you trying to tease me? You know I’m starving…” There was a hint of jest in his words, and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Justice was quick to remind him, though, that the ache in his stomach was his own fault. In an effort to block out the spirit’s nagging, he swallowed the mouthful of milled wheat meal. Once he had cleaned his lips, he took her into a full embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek. “And this is how I know you’re real…because Fade spirits never could come up with something so delicious.” As if to drive his point further home, he rested a hand on his belly as it began to growl a demand for more of what he had sampled.

Hawke let her hand join his as she stirred the pot. “Just a little while longer, I promise.” Once the stir was finished, she slipped behind him and hugged his waist, gathering up his shirt so she could offer the warmth of her touch to his bare stomach and a playful rub to the crease of his hip. “You do realize you’ve just earned yourself another special day, right?”

His cheeks grew a deeper scarlet, and he let out a comforted sigh. “Oh, love…I’d say you didn’t have to, but we both know that wouldn’t do a thing to stop you.” These days were, indeed, special - the morning after, he would almost always have a full mana reserve, itself a reminder that he was no longer alone. “Not that I don’t _enjoy_ it…It’s just, well…you know Justice.”

The spirit bristled. Already, he could imagine the way this would end - his host would be made lethargic by his bloated gut and left completely at Hawke’s mercy, and the spirit would be left weighed down by the feeling. Worse, how could he lay here and be so self-indulgent when so many mages were still being tortured?

Anders sighed, shaking his head and trying to return himself to the moment in front of him. “…Ugh…Lys…is it done yet?” he complained, wandering over to sit down on the sofa and conserve his energy. What Justice found as frustration was the thing he desired most at the moment. It felt like self-indulgence, but it was something he needed desperately - a moment’s rest from the cruelties of life in Kirkwall.

After the next stir cycle, Hawke took a moment to join him. As she sat at his side, her arm came around to rest on his shoulder, and the other slid across his waist and pulled him in closer still. “What kind of justice is it for you to work so hard and suffer so much when you get so little in return?”

Justice tightened Anders’ gut with conviction. “…You know this isn’t about me, love. Justice is…it’s not about me. It’s not really about _us._ It’s–”

She snapped her hand up from his waist to his heart, as if to catch him before the next word. “About mages.” That same hand slid down against his chest until it reached the soft spot below his rib cage, where she tucked her fingers under the bony ridge and rubbed his waist there. “In case you haven’t noticed…you _are_ a mage, _We_ are mages.” Nimble fingers tugged at his shirt until she was baring his stomach again, and both of her hands found their favorite spot there. “And no mage under my roof is going to suffer. Are we clear on that…Justice?” She hissed the spirit’s name under her breath.

She was right. Humbling as it was to the spirit, there was no flaw in her words. Anders _was_ a mage, and he did very much deserve _some_ reward for his efforts. _Some_ part of this freedom he was fighting for had to be his, by right. He finally relented to allow Anders _just_ a bit of relaxation, if only for the sake of his body’s needs. This power Hawke had to convince him, though, still left a prickle under their shared skin.

Anders let out a sigh of relief at Justice’s approval and slid his hand over the top of Hawke’s. The other came to cup her cheek and guide her closer so he could kiss her lips. “Mm, yes, we’re clear.”

Hawke answered his affection with a tight squeeze around the waist. “Good.” Only with reluctance did she leave his company to finally fill a bowl with the spicy-sweet concoction and place it into his hands.

The moment he felt the warmth through the wooden vessel, he could hardly stop himself from tearing up simply on instinct. It smelled of spiced apple _heaven._ His stomach was very nearly pleading now, and he was all too quick to answer - but only after he had had the chance to separate every single flavor in his mind. “Aaah, _Maker_ …” he very nearly moaned in delight, also nearly blindsiding Justice with the pleasing spark of sense. “Love, if you were a desire demon, that’s all it would’ve taken to get your wicked fingers on my poor little heart.”

Hawke resumed her spot beside him, tucking an arm in against the small of his back. “No desire demon would stand a chance against you and Justice.” Her other arm found its way across his waist, and she offered him a tender squeeze.

Anders’ mouth was too full to respond. Rather, he tilted his head and rested it on her strong shoulder, basking in the attention she offered. Swallowing the mouthful soon after, he leaned back into a pleasantly relaxed slouch as the tension began to loosen from his nerves and allowed Justice to find some release. The very thought of much-needed nourishment brought a new strength to his being. He paid little mind to the bits that dribbled from his lips as he bit into one of the apple slices. It was this that brought the tears flooding from his eyes at last and made him nearly forget that Justice even existed. He wasted no time finishing off the rest of the bowl - it was enough to sate his gnawing hunger, but he was far from satisfied. This was more than just sustenance - it was an _experience._ Deaf to Justice’s protests, he filled the bowl a second time.

The sight brought a warm smile to Hawke’s lips. “Is it _that_ good?” Her modesty could not be more obviously false.

Licking another drop away from his own lips, he drew her close with his free arm and pressed his cheek to hers. “Why are you even asking, sweetheart? You know I love everything you make for me.” His attention quickly went back to the second bowl, using it to drown his unpleasant memories and finishing it with a deep sigh of much-deserved comfort and a stretch of his arms behind him until he lay flat against the seat of the sofa with his eyes dreamily hazing over.

Justice, however, was a bit less comfortable. He could already feel his vessel’s stomach beginning to churn with unease. It was never a pleasant experience for the spirit; Kristoff, having already been dead, had no need for such a thing, and thus Justice had never considered it. Now, it was just one of many bizarre things he was aware of about the living body of the man he now called “host.” Every morning, without fail, he would be dragged awake by a maddening ache and an unearthly noise coming from his gut. Since Anders came into Hawke’s care, this was often followed shortly by the thoroughly sickening sensation of _something_ weighing him down and gurgling fitfully inside him. More frustratingly, Anders seemed never to notice, and even seemed on some level to enjoy it. When he demanded answers, Anders only rubbed his belly and got more comfortable in his state of inactivity. His thoughts would conjure up images of a very contented cat rolling onto its back. All Justice could discern was that this was a desirable condition…and all he could focus on was the fact that there were so many other mages in dungeons across Thedas, suffering the same fate Anders once did.

Hawke had already started brewing a pot of tea before he had finished the first bowl. Now that it was fully steeped, she poured the steaming infusion into a fine porcelain cup and slid it into his hands. “Here, love. Get that in you and you’ll feel even better.”

He only sat up enough to not spill hot tea on himself. A gentle blow of cold magic-laced air cooled it to his tolerance, and the next breath brought in the smells of elfroot, mint and embrium - strong, reliable and refreshing healing herbs. The first sip spilled such relief into him that his lips drew into a serene smile. “As if I don’t already feel good enough?”

Justice could only feel his vessel growing heavier and heavier. This was definitely Hawke’s power in action - having her way with him would happen in due course. Anders’ existence, for this time, would be reduced to his fleshly desires. Yet, there were pleasant songs weaving in and out of his senses, of strength, vigor and well-being. Justice could sense slivers of his own nature as well, reaching out for them by instinct. They told of the pain and sacrifice felt by his vessel, and the neglect of his own care in the pursuit of the spirit’s cause. For all his drive, Anders was doing injustice to himself. Yet, Hawke acted to deliver due balance. Unpleasant as the physical sensation was, a bellyful of Hawke’s cooking and lazy contentment were still, in their own way, just.

With this thought weighing heavy on his mind, Anders drained his cup and turned in his seat, allowing himself to lean back, stretch out and relax his muscles. “Ooh, love…” he whined softly, shifting until he was comfortable. “I think I’m going to regret this later…” he complained, rubbing the sides of his stuffed stomach.

“Oh, nonsense!” Hawke cooed, leading the healer to sit on her lap with his head resting on a pillow at the chair’s arm. “It’s not going to be long at all before you have so much mana you won’t know what to do with it all.” She took him into a strong embrace, planting a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. “That’s what these days are all about, love. I want you to be at your best.” A flare of mana warmed her hand, and she rested it in her favorite spot over his heart. “Kirkwall needs you. The mages need you.” There was a pause as she cradled the sides of his face in her hands. “ _I_ need you, Anders. But we need _all_ of you. And that means you need to take care of yourself.” The warmed hand came to rest on his belly, offering light rubs with her fingertips.

The pleasant emotions and sensations visited on him all at once brought the apostate into giddy shivers so strong he could not help but let out a small giggle. “That’s just another excuse to spoil me, isn’t it?” He hooked an arm over her back, hugging her closer and planting a kiss on her cheek before leaning back and lazing in her arms. “Mmm…” he sighed, letting his weight settle into her lap. “I want to live in this moment with you, love…but there’s still so much to do.”

Justice felt like a boulder of uselessness now sat in his gut where the thirst for purpose used to be. What use were these new resources, if they were going to be wasted like this? Anders now more resembled a pampered Tevinter magister who had slaves feed him fat red grapes off the vine while mages elsewhere in Thedas were starved and tortured - an experience with which he was all too familiar. As the spirit made an attempt to remind him of this, he let out a soft grunt and rested a hand on his belly.

“Something wrong, love?” asked Hawke as she tucked her fingertips between his.

“Justice giving me his usual tirade about starving mages in dungeons again,” he sighed, turning to kiss the place where her robe opened. “As if I didn’t spend a year as one before he even came along.” If he could glare at the spirit, he would gladly have done so by now. “Never mind that we fed a whole family in the clinic last night.”

The truth of the matter was, Justice himself felt tied down and inactive. It was all too easy for him to grow restless. Mages were suffering, and his vessel was laying here doing nothing about it. He wanted to take control, to storm out the door, but he was faced with the fact that Anders was right about needing to regain his mana. Indeed, one family had been taken care of, but so many more were in need. Too many.

Hawke gently coaxed Anders to turn his head so she could kiss the soft spot of his temple; her lips were charged with the tiniest spark of mana. “Don’t worry, love…there’ll be no starving mages in this house.”

Justice could not help but take notice. This magic offered a faint melody to him, and only him. Was Hawke addressing him specifically? More of the song slipped through in the mana that dripped off her fingers against Anders’ hair. It was a sheltering song, to tell him this place was a safe haven. He was no demon, by her idea of them.

The feeling that Anders got was similar, but it was touched with sweetness. His skin warmed at the touch of her lips, and he closed his eyes. _She’s real too…oh Maker, but she’s real._

Justice was the first to notice warm hands against his vessel’s lower abdomen. A layer of mana had been laid over her fingers, allowed to flow into his skin and bring with it a song of healing and rest. It slipped through Anders’ senses into the spirit’s perception, and called up their memories of the balm Hawke offered to their souls. He wanted to protest, to find it a distraction, but somehow, under this spell, it was beyond him.

Anders settled into a warm, serene pool of his own awareness of being as he felt her fingers gently pressing against his belly. It took more effort to keep himself awake now, and he might as well have been purring. The soft rumbling of his slightly overfilled stomach brought to mind a cauldron in which new mana was being prepared for him, and Hawke was one of those wise women from the tales he had heard, using those old remedies to bring him back to health. He drew in a heavy breath, letting the fresh air stir in his chest. It, too, was so very relievingly real. A sigh of restfulness tumbled from his lips.

Hawke drew her hands further and further up, massaging little circles against his softest spots, then began working her way back down. Every little touch came with more and more mana to heal the fraying of his overworked nerves. Her fingers finally came to rest, as they always did, against his softly beating heart.

Justice wanted to sigh as well. Anders was certainly growing comfortable in his idleness, but there was a certain peace in this state. Hawke indeed had some power over him. The feeling of a gut that wasn’t hollow still made the Fade crawl around him, but he could at least feel some of their magic returning. His only concern now was that this pleasure only belonged to Anders. Not even to the spirit himself, but to his vessel. It should belong to all mages, everywhere.

 _Starting with Anders_ , he remembered Hawke saying to him. But would it end there?

“How are you feeling, love?” she asked, placing a soft kiss on his temple.

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Anders answered, without hesitation and with a relieved breath. “I don’t deserve you, sweetheart.” A flush of well-being filled his cheeks.

“And Justice?” she asked.

The spirit froze. She had asked specifically of him, of his own well-being. What did it matter to her, anyway? He was just a spirit, just a concept embodied. Justice was not supposed to _feel_ anything. It was supposed to be a word, a belief, a deed.

And yet, he _did_ feel something. He felt a great many things, coiled up next to the mage’s deepest thoughts. It was not something he was expecting, nor with which he knew how to cope.

He could take it no more.

“Anders?” she asked, noticing the sudden silence.

She was calling the mage’s name again. Of course it was too much to hope that she cared for the spirit.

Anders swallowed hard, and Justice felt it. His stomach took to turning. A plea slipped from him to Justice not to hurt Hawke.

This was the last straw.


	2. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Justice becomes curious about Hawke, much to Anders’ awkward confusion.  
> Content Warnings: Light discussion of consent involving Justice. Possible dubcon toward the end.

_**I will resolve this, once and for all!** _

_Justice, PLEASE!_

_**I will learn what power she has over you!** _

_I love her! She’s the only thing in this damn city worth saving! You and I both know that!_

_**I** **will not continue to stand by while she diverts your mind with these frivolous pursuits! It is the same as feasting on the flesh of your fellow mages!** _

_I don’t care what happens to me! If you hurt her…Justice, if you do anything to hurt her…it’ll crush me. I…won’t be able to recover._ The ache in his heart passed through to the spirit.

It tasted bittersweet to his sense, like the memories of the Warden, Kristoff. Indeed, this was far more than just a distraction.

 _ **I must…know**_ , Justice asserted, curling up inside the throbbing of his vessel’s heart until the song of its warmth touched him. _**Being rid of her is not an option…but remaining an observer is also out of the question.**_

A dryness took over Anders’ palate. _What are you trying to say?_

It was such a strange thing to conceive, even stranger to try to put into a feeling. _**I must touch her for myself. I must feel her power firsthand.**_

 _…Are you…Maker’s breath, Justice!_ His stomach tightened and quivered in agitation. _Are you trying to say you want to–_

The spirit hesitated. _**…I do not know. I know that when she touches you…she changes you. I have only felt it through your senses. Even when she is speaking of me…she still addresses you. Even when she speaks to me…it is about**_ **you** _ **.**_ It was enough to make him wonder if there was room for him between them even as a concept. _**I seek to understand why she affects you so deeply.**_

This answer made Anders finally sigh in relief. _That makes sense…I suppose. I…think I can do this. But when I say stop…you stop. Do you understand?_ / It was rare that he had the will to command the spirit, but with Hawke’s potential safety at sake, he had to put his foot down.

Justice loosened the tension in his host’s body. _**You have my word. I await your dispensation.**_ The space in Anders’ rib cage suddenly seemed all too confining.

Anders let the hitched breath finally flow out of him. He could still faintly feel the warmth of Hawke’s hand still softly rubbing his belly in the hopes of coaxing him back to reality. _Alright, then–Maker, I love when she does that._ Sighing away his worry, he let his consciousness slip away so Justice could fill his place. _Let me know if you need help._

His eyes opened with the bright glow of possession, and Fade lines cracked across his visage.

Instantly, Lysandra pulled away. “J-Justice!?” She was quick to give the spirit space, in case he had been roused to a panic.

Justice pulled himself up to sit across from her. **“Come closer to me, Hawke,”** he commanded, his tone more even and deliberate than his usual expression.  

With a silent, almost submissive nod, Hawke leaned in just close enough for his arm to reach. “A-alright?”

 **“…Closer,”** he insisted, once he felt his fingers brush against her shoulder. A part of him remained somewhat receptive to Anders’ promptings. Already, he had noted her hesitation. This must be that fear of hers again; it touched him far deeper now that he could feel her muscles tightening under his grip.

It wasn’t difficult to understand what Justice meant, but the implications made something in her tremble. “Is everything alright, Justice?” she asked, already offering a hand to take his own.  

The moment the warmth of her fingertips graced his, his being was seized by a chord that felt unfinished. He slowly intertwined his fingers with hers, creating knots of them as he felt the rough, hardened pads - a healer’s hands. They spoke of herbs cut, wounds tended, lives saved. It was already much less of a wonder why Anders was so drawn to her.

Lysandra swallowed hard, merely allowing Justice to do as he pleased with her hand. “Did you want something?”

 **“Yes,”** he answered, without hesitation, now that she was in his proximity. A tug of her arm pulled them closer together, and he hooked his hand behind her head and through her hair. It was a pleasantly indescribable sensation - he wanted to think “silk”, but it wasn’t quite - too fibrous. Gold? No, gold did not come in threads this fine, unless it was in those tales where straw was spun into such. It, too, sang softly to him.

A faint blush took over Hawke’s cheeks, and she shivered against his Fade-filled touch. She felt strangely powerless in the spirit’s presence, even when he was showing no signs of hostility. In fact, it seemed to be quite the opposite. “…Is Anders okay with this?” she asked, hesitant to accept his ministrations and indicating so by a press of her hand against his chest, where she could feel his heart furiously thumping.

From the back of his own mind, Anders gave his tacit approval, though he was still more than a bit nonplussed.

The spirit, though, gritted his teeth - she was talking about his host yet again, even with him right there. Frustration had begun climbing up from his belly and into his ribs, right under her hand. **“…He has no objections…but that matters little now. This is not about Anders. This is about _you_ , Hawke.”** He tucked his fingers under her hand, lifting it from his breastbone and holding it between them so the song had more space to echo. **“You have power over him…over _us_ … and I must know that power for its true nature.”** The hand that had been making its way through her hair came down to cup the square of her jaw, and his thumb ran along the apple of her cheek. It had grown warm to his touch.

Hawke found herself blushing deeper at the sudden thoughts that had invaded her mind. Already, she was imagining the spirit in Anders’ form slamming her forcefully against a wall and rending her clothes. Even more strangely, perhaps disconcertingly so, she found herself unable to truly oppose the idea.

“A-are you sure, Justice?” she asked, hitching her breath and closing the distance between them with great care not to startle the spirit. She kept one hand over his heart, to keep their presence connected.

The song took on a sudden heat, and it made Justice squint. At the same time, Anders directed him to place his lips where his thumb was resting. His heart raced enough to skip beats. Gritting his teeth and swallowing his unease, he leaned toward Hawke and did as instructed, placing only a soft, brief peck on her cheek.

That was enough, though, to add a burst of power to their shared tune. It was, in its own way, the smallest of just acts - the reward of her kindness with a grateful gesture.

Hawke’s face had gone scarlet. This was far from what she had imagined, but somehow it had made her even more flustered. With a carefully measured breath, she curled a hand around his upper arm. It was dangerous to be too forward with the spirit, as far as she knew. She sent forth thoughts of trust and companionship, matching them with gestures of her own.

First came the movement of her hand to his shoulder. Her eyes stayed on him, to watch for any sign of discomfort. When he went a moment without flinching, she slowly moved in to press her lips to the glowing lines of his forehead. It was a simple reply, free of licentious intent, and a familiar one to Justice.

The song suddenly became sweeter to his ears. He recognized all too well the way she would soothe Anders’ worry, and it made his heart slow. **“Hawke, I…”**

Memories. A flood of memories, all centered around her. Every careful word, every calming touch, every warm embrace, every kiss that took his words from him into her with no need for translation. Indeed, there was much she _had_ shared with him, and now that he had felt that magic, he knew it wasn’t just for Anders.

This was that power that he sought - it was unmistakable. Anders was thrilling from it, his own desire to reach out to Hawke welling up and threatening to break Justice away.

No. He would not allow it just yet. Anders would have to wait.


	3. Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice continues to explore the power Hawke possesses.

Defiant of his host, Justice thrust himself onto the other mage. He entrapped her in his arms, one snaking up to keep her head stable from behind while the other hooked into the curve of her back. Once he was satisfied she was unable to wriggle free, he took her lips into his and flooded her with a Fade-touched chorus backed by the drumbeat of his host’s pounding heart.

Hawke, taken by complete surprise, lost her breath to the spirit’s demands. _J-Justice…_ her consciousness chimed out to him. It was a name, not just a word. This was a mutable thing she called him, with desires and needs. Yet, at the same time, it was full of acknowledgement of his purpose. Her desire for freedom - for her, for Anders, for _all_ mages - had not diminished in the least. His words had struck enough chords with her to create a symphony. As for Justice the spirit, the only thing of him she feared was the power and relentlessness he wielded. He was more than just a part of Anders to her, as well. When Anders spoke of him as a friend, that was how she envisioned him. She accepted his approach, taking him into her arms as tightly as he held her.

At last, he understood. This was no mere act of distraction. She was devoted - truly dedicated - to them both. To Anders and to him. When his host demanded breath, he at last pulled away just enough to fill his lungs. **“Hawke,”** he gasped, gazing down at her through eyes that could see nothing before them. **“…I do not desire that you fear me. You are a free mage, with a noble heart.”** As he spoke, he placed his hand against the center of her chest as she had so often done for him. **“You have proven my doubts about you false. I…”**

There was wetness in his eyes. Anders had still managed to break through, but Justice found himself unable to resist this expression of emotion. His heart was quaking so violently that tears were the only way for it to not burst. With his head turned away, he sent out a gruff breath. **“I…find you more than just worthy. You are…”** The words nearly choked him. **“You are…”** He trailed off once again, forcing syllables out in a stutter. **“t-t-treasured. The songs you stir in me are some of the most wondrous things I’ve ever dreamed.”**

Hawke found herself with a blush as hot as her fire magic. “M-Maker, Justice, I…I don’t know what to say.”

 **“Say nothing, then,”** Justice answered, tracing the line of her cheekbone with a thumb and letting the warmth of her skin hum softly to him. **“You speak to me in ways that cannot be said in words alone. Your heart, your skin…even–…”** It felt so foolish to say out loud. **“Even _this._ ” **He slid a hand over his vessel’s full stomach, sighing out a quiet groan as he finally felt it settling. **“They all echo with this magic of yours. It…calls to me.”** As he spoke, he drew her closer still and weaved his aura around her like a shell. **“You desire something more…true from me, one could say.”**

“What do you mean?” Hawke asked, busying herself with loosening anything tightening from Justice’s proximity. She let Anders’ hair down, freed his neck from his collar, and opened the ties of his shirt.

The air grew cooler, and Justice took notice from the way Anders relaxed in the back of his mind. **“Anders has suffered greatly…and I have begun to reflect this. If left unchecked…I could indeed become a demon. I…”** It was rare to hear the spirit hesitate so sharply, enough to be jarring. **“…I fear this as much as a spirit of the Fade can fear anything. It means I - _we -_ would be lost forever. Anders and Justice both would cease to be. Vengeance is the thing that would take our place. But with you, Hawke…” **He cupped her cheeks with both hands again, soaking in their warmth through his mortal’s callused fingertips.  **“I feel that there is less to fear. There is… _hope_ here. To you, in your mind, in your heart…there is still _Justice._ That is what you still desire, strongly enough to shield me.” **

What few tears Justice had shed were nothing compared to the streams from Hawke’s eyes. As he had advised, she said nothing, only taking him into a full embrace and rubbing the small of his back. The tune of her melody changed with his, ebbing through the Fade to settle into his chest. The lyrics in this song told of something he had only heard once before.

The song of the ring, from so long ago. But there was something different about it - it was more fiery, more righteous in its passion. Justice wasn’t just listening to this song, he was its muse. What filled Hawke’s heart at the thought of him was a different sort of sense than she had for Anders. It was a rousing march, and their hearts together acted as its drum accompaniment.

He could not fight back this urge under his vessel’s skin. He needed to get closer to her still. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and a shiver had made its home in his spine. Wisps of unfamiliar thirst gathered deep in his gut.

No, this wasn’t unfamiliar at all. He knew this feeling all too well, but only as an unwilling participant. His instant urge was to shout at Anders…but this wasn’t coming from Anders at all. At least, not the conscious part of him. His body still held those memories like a sponge held water, nevertheless.

 **“And likewise,”** he went on, his voice growing quiet and even in its tone. **“ _I_ have come to desire you, Hawke. This power you hold is…incredible. It sings out to me in ways that cannot be described by mortal words. I–” **

He needed say nothing more - her lips had caught the rest of his thoughts. _You are_ _Justice_ , the Fade sang around her, _And I am yours._

 _Ours_ , Anders chimed in. Hawke was, at last, something they were able to share. For that moment, the rebel mage and the spirit became intertwined under the spell of the fiery apostate from Lothering. Her song for them was a two-part harmony - one a sweet ballad for the love of the mage, the other a mighty battle hymn of praise to the spirit.

They answered with an antiphon of their own, pushing back against her kiss with equal volume and leaning her back onto the chaise. His fingers raked into her hair, taking in its familiar texture. The part of them that was Anders ached at the concept of her beauty that had formed in his mind; he very nearly wanted to weep.

She mirrored the gesture, combing down through his hair until her hands touched the middle of his back. There was a flash of concern in her eyes, though. Her song broke into a hesitant refrain, and she touched his cheek with careful firmness. “How far do you want to…?” She trailed off as she watched Fade light dance across his skin.

Something was weighing heavily in Justice’s belly, and it wasn’t just Anders being so well-fed. Hawke was presenting him with a choice, to be made by his own will. He could not remember the last time someone truly gave him _any_ decision to make for himself, let alone something so crucial. The idea alone froze in his chest, and words in his throat, as he realized he had no answer.

There was a sudden whisper from a space in his mind. _It’s okay, Justice. We can trust her._

The hairs on the back of their neck stood on end. The weight of such a prospect tightened the mage’s chest, and a sudden, untraceable feeling of apprehension clung to Justice’s senses. The level to which he desired her had grown disconcerting - it was not supposed to be in his nature. If he thirsted any deeper, there was a very real possibility that it would twist him into a demon and Anders into an abomination.

His heart skipped a beat, and the next one came twice as hard. The power she wielded was almost too great to resist, and she drew him in like a moth to a sweet, shining flame. Yet, as he could sense and as he had said, she desired him with just as much fervency. That said, though, the sound of her put strength in his vessel’s bones and in his own being. Before, it was nearly impossible to tell where Anders ended and he began. But when she started speaking of him like an absent colleague, and calling him by name, his awareness had begun to shift into its own realm. It was the closest he had felt to being real since inhabiting Kristoff’s body. But it came with a price - he had begun to desire her independently of the desires of his host. The idea alone sent a crawl through him. Even if she was his closest, most loyal ally besides Anders, power over him was still power over him, just the same. Even with Anders’ reassurance, doubt still crept into the space between him and the Fade. He had to gain ground against her somehow, even as he answered to the desire she bore toward him.

Anders felt surprisingly patient in his mind, even as his body was growing anxious to be pressed against hers. The mage did not prod the spirit, but offered him a shield of consciousness until he was ready to go on.

“…Justice?” Hawke whispered, touching her fingertips to his to let him know she was present. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to–”

He snapped his hand up and seized her wrist, squeezing it with nearly crushing force. **“Do not touch me, Hawke!”** he ordered, his voice growing harsh. In truth, though, her touch was so intoxicating to him it felt dangerous.

Hawke tried to pull her hand away, but found that Justice would not let her go. “I-I said we don’t have to–”

 **“We _will_ do this…”** he declared, his voice flowing into a deep, quiet rumble that poured out his own song into the folds of reality between them. **“but it will be on *my* terms.”** He tugged her into his arms, pinning her own down as he kissed her again, this time with his own song rising to a crescendo. **“You are dangerous, Hawke. I do not trust you not to corrupt me,”** he explained, pulling his lips away from hers just enough to speak. **“But you…the desire you have for me gives me strength. You _thirst_ for me.” **

Just hearing him describe the things she knew she felt made her own heart start to race and a fiery heat fill her face. It felt wrong, somehow, to want him as she did now. Yet, the feeling was clearly mutual, as far as she could discern. Fortunately for her, though, she had had some rather interesting conversations with Isabela some time ago - she recalled them, and a smirk crept onto the edges of her lips. “So you say,” she posed a gentle challenge to the spirit. “Might I make a suggestion?”

 **“Quickly,”** Justice demanded, but when he felt her song come through, his eyes grew wide and his eyebrows narrowed. **“…I see.”** Anders’ consciousness had mixed with his again, offering whispered advice as he had been doing. **“Come, then.”** he commanded, leading her by the wrist to the bedroom.

Hawke’s mind was rushing with thoughts and feelings about this turn of events. She almost wanted to believe it was just a dream, that Justice would never truly engage in such activity with her. When she offered him the chance to stop, he not only wanted to continue, but declared so with certainty. Surely, the spirit gained something more from this than the need of flesh. What he truly wanted, it seemed, was for her to want him.

And she did. _Maker_ , how she did. Her body thirsted for what she imagined him to offer, and her soul longed to see his will done in the material world. Her heart, as well, had made room in it for the spirit himself. He had become something - some _one_ \- familiar to her. More than familiar, he was _company._ Whether such a relationship was ill-advised or not mattered little. Then again, whether _anything_ was ill-advised or not mattered little to Lysandra Hawke. She was, after all, the one who had fallen in love with the so-called abomination against even his own warnings. 


	4. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice and Hawke find that their desire toward one another is not what they believed.

Anders found himself surfacing, and the glow of the Fade dimmed in his eyes. In his post-possession daze, he slumped over against Hawke, who was now lying back on the bed with the belts of his robe on the pillow beside her.

“Justice?” asked the other mage, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“It’s Anders, love…” he responded, accepting the touch despite Justice’s impatience. “You’re probably wanting an explanation for all this, yeah?” he asked, scooting closer to her and entwining his limbs around hers.

“Well…” Lys found herself squinting. “I definitely wouldn’t mind one. I thought Justice wasn’t into this sort of thing. Not to mention…are you alright with it?”

He was only able to offer a bemused chuckle as he shook his head. “Honestly, Lys, I still don’t know what to think. I mean…” He propped himself up against the headboard, slowing his heart a bit with some healing magic. “I can’t really get mad at either of you, but–”

“ _Anders_ ,” Hawke interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder and leveling her eyes with his. “Are you okay with letting the spirit in your head take control of you, tie me up, and have his way with me?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” said Anders, offering a squeeze to her hip, “How could I refuse?” He gave a shrug and a casual smile. “Sure, it’s a bit _awkward_ …but it beats the Void out of trying to keep quiet so the Templars don’t discover me. Besides…” A catlike glint flashed in his amber eyes. “Who’s to say what he wants to do to you and what I want to do to you are that far off?”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows peaked with curiosity, and she stroked little circles on his belly with her fingertips. “Now you’ve got me curious.”

“Good,” said the mage, stretching out his arms behind him and letting her tend to his need for her contact. 

Justice had been rather uncomfortably forced back into Anders’ chest, but a sweetness floated out to him from Hawke’s hands. It was like the song from before, meant only for him, an assurance that he had not been forgotten.

But it didn’t feel the same this time. It felt as if it was ensnaring him, caging him back inside the mage’s rib cage and tempting him like Orlesian sweetmeats to a starving prisoner. There was almost a cruel mockery to it.

Anders sat up with a start and gasped, pushing her hand away from him. “…Lys, I…I’m so sorry, I–” His words were cut off by the telltale gap between their breaths.

“…Justice,” Lysandra addressed the spirit the moment she saw the glow in Anders’ eyes. A lump had formed in her throat - perhaps it really _was_ too good to be true.

The spirit froze still for a moment before sliding off the bed, rising to his feet, and refusing to face Hawke. **“…This is not what I seek from you, Hawke,”** he declared, his hands tightening into fists at his sides as he forced himself to repress his own violent urges - Anders begged him not to hurt her. **“These desires…they are not mine. They cannot be. Only Anders desires you this way.”**

Lysandra’s eyebrows fixed with a lack of surprise.  “I had a feeling,” she answered, keeping careful distance between them. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked, swallowing her disappointment.

 **“…No,”** said Justice, after a moment’s pause. **“I…need to be near you, still. But the way your song changed…it became…”** The purest spiritual part of him roiled with near disgust. **“…selfish. Lustful. If that is how you desire Anders, then so be it…but I…it warps me. It… _traps_ me.” **

Hawke’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach, and shame gripped at her gut. “Maker’s breath, Justice, I’m sorry…I didn’t know…” Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes, and she could ill bear to look at him under the weight of her guilt.

At last, he turned to face her. Her song had changed again, this time to one of regret, and ache for Justice’s purer nature. What she desired most now was his forgiveness, if he would be merciful enough to offer it to her. Silently, he stared sightlessly in her direction and let his psyche churn up a reply.

 **“…Hawke,”** he finally said, reaching out toward where he felt her presence. **“I am not angry with you. You stopped before allowing me to be harmed. That…was more than I could have asked.”** His voice now slipped into the softest she had heard from him. **“Anders said you would do so…but I had my doubts. You proved them groundless.”**

Now free from the chains of corrupting desire, he gathered her into his arms and took in the sweetly familiar sensation of her closeness. The power she held over them, that he had sought so fervently to understand, now stirred in him in a way he himself could make sense of. He - or rather, they, as the united mind of himself and Anders - had their own level of power over her. Her song had always been underscored with desire for them both, on so many octaves. He made her heart race, just as she did his vessel’s. It was a near-perfect balance, something closer to the idea he represented.

She buried her face into Justice’s chest, hugging his waist and forcing her mind to let go of its last profane thoughts. She could hear his heart thumping against his ribs with full speed and force, at the same sort of pace one would expect if he had just run all the way across Hightown. “C-can you tell me what you _are_ alright with, then?”

He brought his host’s body into a possessive sort of crescent that rested his chin against the top of her head, quietly listening to her Fade-toned melody and taking note of how it meandered through him. **“Remember first what I am, Hawke…and let me remain so,”** he instructed, while stroking the ends of her hair. **“The things you give to me…are more than can be contained in flesh. When you serve the cause of mages…when you hold space for me in your heart and mind…when you provide Anders and I both with sanctuary and chase away the shadows that threaten to push us over the edge into madness…”** He let his hand come to rest on her bare shoulder. **“I cannot put in words how much it fulfills me.”** A chord of hers, though, told him she still wanted contact of a physical nature.

He let out a deep sigh. **“My vessel’s need for your companionship cannot be helped. I still do not understand it…but it gives us peace. And…”** He touched glowing fingertips to the place where her heart resided, focusing his senses on the vibrations there. **“…There is a new sound in it. It…shelters me. Frees me. It gives me more room to…to _be._ ” **His hand searched for hers, claiming it when he felt the ridge of her palm and squeezing it. **“Simple acts, such as this…”** Turning his chin down allowed him to touch his lips to her brow. **“…are a balm to my being.”**

A warm blush took Hawke’s cheeks, and a smile broke on her lips. By now, she no longer needed words to express herself to him. Her answer was, first, a cupped hand over his heart that whispered a deep fondness. Then came a tender grasp of his shoulder, which brought with it protection. Finally, she leaned in to kiss the corner of his jaw.

Something inside the spirit was gripped by a harmonious frisson. Just as he had described, there was a new feeling of realization in him. At last, his search had been rewarded. Her song shrouded and cradled him, letting him gently slip back into the back of Anders’ mind. His chest now felt less like a confining cage and more like a strong fortress.


	5. Bedroom Hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke shows Anders just how devoted she is to him.

Anders poured out his breath in a heavy sigh as the glow of the Fade dimmed. His limbs fell nearly limp from exhaustion, and he gasped as he felt his throbbing heart. Breaths came shorter than usual, as if bands of metal were tightened around his ribs. “Maker…” he groaned, rubbing at his chest. “L-Lys, where–”

“Right here, love,” Hawke answered, placing a hand over his and sending a bit of healing magic through his skin.

As his vision cleared and the feeling returned to his head, he gasped a few more shallow breaths. The first feeling that came to him, though, was a throbbing headache that made him groan aloud and press his hands to his temples. “Ugh…” he grunted, sinking back onto the bed and staring into the backs of his eyelids. “My _everything_ hurts…” he whined, putting a hand on his stomach as he felt it start to ache with upset. “It happens when Justice takes over…usually I can heal it, but I can barely think straight, let alone cast a spell.”

He barely finished his sentence before he felt a warm hand come to rest against his belly. This time, though, Justice had settled in just under his heart, his presence barely noticeable. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, letting her magic mix with his own. At last able to get to a bit more of his mana, he flushed the pain from his head with a healing spell, sighing with much-needed relief. “…Oh, sweetheart, I _needed_ that.” Shifting his body closer to her, he stretched out his limbs and rested his head on her shoulder, turning so he could kiss her cheek. “And Maker, I need _you._ _We_ need you. Me _and_ Justice. Even if it’s not the same way, Lys, I love you. I don’t know much about how it works with spirits…but this is the best Justice has ever felt since he possessed–” Justice writhed in indignation at Anders’ wording. “Since _we_ merged. I’m…” A dazed chuckle escaped him. “I’m honestly kind of surprised how this turned out…and relieved, of course. Which reminds me…”

“Yeah?” asked Hawke as she ran her fingers through the hair on the side of his head, still sending little flutters of comfort to Justice.

“Lys, heart of mine, if you want me to pin you to the wall, strip you, lash you to the bedposts and make you sing for me, all you have to do is ask.” There was a teasing tone in his voice, and he finished his words with a playful kiss to her jaw.  

Hawke’s face turned almost as red as her favorite cloak. “M-Maker, Anders, I…” She still felt a bit dirty at the reflection on her own thoughts. “Later, maybe. When I feel less like Justice wants to slap me.”

Anders cracked an amused smile that reached his eyes in the form of tiny lines at their corners. “Love, if Justice wanted to slap you, he’d have already killed you.” Now free of pain, he settled into the place where the bed began to dip down under Hawke’s weight and let his eyes close halfway.

“Damn glad he likes me, then,” Hawke quipped as she let her hand lazily meander across his stomach. “Is laying here with me while I adore you still an option?” she asked, with a cheeky half-smile.

“Of _course_ ,” Anders purred, relaxing his muscles against her ministrations. “When have you _ever_ known me to object to that?”

Lysandra remained silent. She wanted to say, “When you’ve got a wild hair up your ass to work on the manifesto,” but there was no space between them for that. Rather, she let her mana warm her hand a bit more and tenderly rubbed the heat into the mild ache of his belly, sometimes offering a soft, playful pat. “Anders,” she murmured against his ear, arching an arm over to hug his waist with a firm squeeze, “You need to just accept the fact that I love you…” Her words were coupled with affectionate massages of his lower stomach. “You’re handsome, you’re wonderful, that’s all there is to it, and I will fight you right here and now if you deny it again.” Her voice sharpened at times, but she ended them with a peck of his cheek.

A soft, pleased groan escaped him, and he sank back into the bed with a lazy smile. “Mmm…but if I just accepted it, you’d have no reason to keep saying it. Besides…” He slid a hand down to catch her own, and placed them both over his heart. “I’m too distracted by how beautiful and amazing _you_ are, and now, Justice has no room to complain, because you’re distracting him too.”

Justice did indeed almost complain, but he was too tightly wrapped in their shared emotions. Indeed, Lysandra’s hands still whispered kind things to him.

Hawke let out a relieved sigh of her own into his disheveled hair, letting her fingers take in the vibrations of his pulse. Her own face was aglow with a blush at his compliments, but she turned it into a bit of a cocky smirk. “Love, you don’t have to tell me how amazing I am. I’m very well aware.” A bit of shifting about allowed her to turn with him so he was flush with her, and she tucked her legs under his in a way that let her envelop him almost completely. Her hand then found its usual spot on his stomach, bringing with it wisps of healing magic to ease the leftover queasiness from Justice’s control.

The healer might as well have melted into a puddle of mana-infused goo. His heart had finally slowed to a steady rest, her warmth sheltered him from the winter chill, and he was finally able to fully enjoy the attention she lavished on him. Another satiated sigh rumbled out of him, and he rested his own hand over the top of hers, fingers lacing between, and let her feel his belly rise and fall with every breath. Pleasant chills ran up his spine and made him let out a little moan.

All Justice could focus on was the reactions of his host’s body. The way his heart fluttered under her touch, the melting of his pain into pure serenity, and the feeling and sound of digesting a bellyful of new strength. This was the furthest thing from the memories of solitary confinement he had ever found. He let their shared harmony entwine around him, securing him in the knowledge of the safety of himself and his host.

Anders found his eyes growing heavy. He pressed his head into the space under her chin, nuzzling the pillow. “Nn…just in case you ever forget,” he cooed, “Besides…” He gently pressed her fingertips into the softness of his lower belly. “I have to earn this somehow, don’t I?”

She chuckled into his neck, kneading the spot their hands rested over with the flat of her palm. “We’ve been over this, darling. I _love_ you. All you have to do is _let_ me.” With a careful application of magic, she warmed her fingertips and rubbed his chest where she felt his heart skip a beat. “You already deserve all I’ve got.”

Anders had buried his face in the pillow, trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up again.

Justice was suddenly caught up in a wave of emotions caught between the mages. It strengthened the walls that guarded him even further, and spread out the space in Anders’ chest. The cries of the wronged still lingered at the edge of his being, but there was shelter here, in these tiny acts that fulfilled his purpose. Everything Hawke had offered Anders had been to repay him for the comfort and sweetness he offered her, as well as the kindness and care he offered his patients, and even, most relievingly, his dedication to the cause of their freedom. It was itself an act of justice. The only thing he could do now was return it. He pushed that thought through to Anders, so strongly it made his skin bear a blue aura.

He rolled over to face her and gathered her in his arms, entwining his legs with hers until they were a knot of limbs. “ _Let_ you? That’s it?” There was a mild rumble of disappointment in his husky whisper. “Why stop there? Why shouldn’t I go a step further than that and return the favor?” Wisps of blue drifted from his face, and a flicker of the Fade flashed in his eyes. A hand glided up to catch the curve of her jaw, tendrils of magic curling out from his fingers. He spared her one look into his eyes before pushing her back onto the bed, filling her mouth with heavy, amorous tones.

Hawke felt the heat return to her cheeks, fuller than before. She hugged the apostate’s waist, tugging the soft cloth of his house shirt up to bare his back. Little noises crept out from her lips as she pressed her tongue against his, drawing it out quickly so she could offer a tender grip of his lip with her teeth. A soft push on his shoulder freed her from him just enough to move her lips to the corner of his jaw. “Mm…I’m sold.” Even now, there were notes of comfort floating through to Justice. She let his weight roll to her side, allowing her to part the space between them just enough to rub the cloth of his shirt against his belly. “ _Maker_ , Anders, have I told you how much I love this tummy you’ve gotten?” Those long, nimble fingers curled down the hem of his trousers, gently gripping the soft roll of flesh that now peeked over it.

The heat of her hand seemed to flow right into his loins as well as his cheeks. He joined her hand with his, sighing as he felt the magic in the connection between them. Any compliment of hers, especially on his appearance, left a lightness in his heart that even Justice noticed. When coupled with the warmth of her compassion, it brought their desires for her into sync. His flesh ached for her touch once again, but now there was a thirst between the both of them that had nothing to do with such urges. This place was far more hospitable to Justice, wrapping him in soft little songs of calm. Together, they flared out a healing spell, shrouding both him and Hawke with a gently shimmering aura. The healer showed his appreciation with a wide smile that carried just an edge of rebel’s mischief in it. “You _better_ like it. You’re the one who put it there, after all. But you know…” A gentle tug of her arm pulled her on top of him. “I’ve got nothing on you, sweetheart,” he purred, brushing his lips against the apple of her cheek. “Now I know what they mean by ‘like a moth to a flame.’ I can’t resist you, love.” He allowed his hand to curl around the edge of her robe near her waist, giving it a teasing tug before pulling it aside and brushing his lips against her breastbone.

There was a smell to her that curled into his mind and conjured up faded memories.

The smell of blood on her the first day they met, from slaughtering the man who threatened to report her magic use to the Templars. It lit a fire in his belly that caught even Justice’s attention.

The smell of spices, from that first bowl of hot broth she brought him one evening, when she asked how he - and Justice - were doing. He had insisted he and Justice were one and the same, but she never could think of them that way. Justice, to her, was always his own soul, nestled somewhere in Anders’ heart, looking through his eyes, working through his hands. He still remembered how he felt more refreshed that morning, with more mana to spare for his patients.

The faint flavor of wine on her breath, from the time they shared their first kiss. Maker, it was _electric_ \- all at once, he had clung to her and spilled his breath and mana into her as if it would somehow free him from the chains and bars still imprisoning him in his own mind. Justice made his displeasure obvious - that night, he had had a nightmare of her being made Tranquil in front of his eyes, a reminder of what he was fighting for. He woke up in a cold sweat that morning, only to find that Hawke had not only already arrived there, but was providing assistance to some of his patients. Justice seemed a bit less critical of her from then on, accepting her as a necessary inconvenience.

And then there was the smell of _her_. When he had been allowed to pull all the toughness and fronts away along with her clothes, he had been met with her raw, hot aura. Justice very nearly had to flee him to escape it, but soon found himself with much less of a desire to do so. After the heat that burned between them that night had settled into a sated warmth, he had found a peaceful place to rest in the space of Anders’ calming breaths.

They had both come to associate that smell with sanctuary. Anders took in a deeper breath of her, tucking his hand under her breast to feel her pulse at its source. Justice surged just under the surface, listening even more carefully to the rhythm and the way his touch made it skip. A shift of his hips allowed him to sit up with her, her legs spread out over the top of his.

“Who’s the moth here?” Hawke asked, her hands slipping between them and pressing lovingly against the softness of his belly. “You really think I can resist such a handsome, charming man as yourself?” Her thumbs traced out little trails along the folds of his skin until she cupped his sides, stroking tiny circles there with her fingertips. “Not to mention being a healer on top of that…” she purred in his ear as she shifted her hips, allowing her stomach to rest against his.

A heated flush crept into Anders’ cheeks, only to instantly flood down into his gut. It got Justice’s attention as well, but it came free of the selfish lust she bore before. Oh, it _was_ certainly lustful, but she wanted to _give_ much more. It was a comfortable balance, that let him stay true to his purpose. He settled into Anders’ chest, offering his approval to continue as the song of the mages’ shared longing for one another cradled him.

His lips drew up into a playful smirk as he listened to her compliments. “You call _me_ charming when it’s _you_ doing the flattery.” Though he brushed it off with gentle humor, her words wove a warm whisper around his heart. He tugged her robe sleeves down along firm, sinewy arms until it no longer obstructed his access to her breasts.

Hawke’s expression mirrored her lover’s, but went further into a full, devilish grin. “…Would you prefer I just manhandle you and _make_ you enjoy yourself?” she asked as she tucked her fingers down his trousers and gripped his hips, her thumbs resting in the creases above his thighs.

There was a sudden prodding at Hawke’s lower stomach, and Anders suppressed a heated gasp as he rested his forehead against hers. “You know…I think I might just want exactly that–”

He barely finished his sentence before she threw him back into the bed with a force spell. “I knew you were dangerous, apostate,” she teased, crawling after him until she could reach the leather cords hidden behind the mattress. “Sounds to me like you need the fear of the Maker put into you.” With the laces in hand, she seized one of his wrists. “I’ve got ways of making you cooperate with anything I demand.”

“Is that so?” he met her taunt with one of his own, doing his best to ignore Justice’s exasperated grumbling. A playful wriggle of his arm against her grip _nearly_ freed him, but he stopped just short of making her let go. “I’ll have you know, the Chantry’s had seven chances to put me down, and they still haven’t succeeded. I’ll bring freedom to _every_ mage, and you can’t stop–” A sudden jolt of static on his skin silenced him.

She let out a sharp laugh, taking hold of his other wrist and pinning them both above his head. “I know you so much better than the Chantry, mage.” His bonds were breakable with minimal effort, should he or Justice be too anxious to continue, but tight enough to remind him of his place. “Ugh,” she let out a soft grunt of mock disgust, straddling his legs to keep him pinned down and using a paralysis spell to hold his hands in place. “The first thing I’ll have to do is silence those lips of yours…” she began, adding dramatic villainous intonation. “All that blasphemy they’re spouting…and all this talk of _rebellion_ …” With the strength of one hand, she shoved him back onto the bed and quieted him with a forceful kiss laced with a spell that left him in too much of a daze to form a coherent sentence.

“M-maker…” he hissed as his heart began to pound with arousal. Just listening to her speak made his blood pump, and even stirred something in Justice. In the touch of her lips, he heard a whisper of devotion. A curse slipped out under his breath, though, as he realized he had yet to remove his smalls and his manhood was pressing against them with growing tension. Already, he had a feeling she would enjoy tormenting him with this knowledge. That feeling, though, only made his need greater.

“That’s right…” Hawke purred, her eyes becoming reminiscent of a predatory jungle cat as she touched long, warm fingertips to the veins of his neck. “I knew you’d see it our way. I’ll have you praising the Maker yet. But you know…” She let her fingertips dance along his neck until they reached the bulge of his throat. “…There’s plenty of people who would like to see a rope around this neck you keep sticking out.” She feathered her lips against the same bulge, prodding at it with her tongue until he was forced to swallow on reflex. At the same time, she pressed her fingertips out around his neck until she reached his pulse. Her touch there became a gentle, icy massage that raised goosebumps on his skin and made his head grow light.

Tears formed in the corners of the apostate’s eyes, which had already fogged over with thirst. He did indeed know many wanted him dead, but the way she said it raised goosebumps on his skin. His whole existence felt like a defiance of the Chantry, but _Maker_ , she was making it sound so _tempting_. The frost dancing across his skin brought a heady, quivering moan from his throat, and his eyelids fluttered shut against the brief sense of breathlessness. The moment she let him breathe again, he took in a much deeper breath than before that made his heart race.

The sense of his host losing oxygen, even just for a few seconds, nearly made Justice take control; his eyes flashed blue for a fraction of a second. He recognized it as a harmful act, but the emotional storm stirring between the two mages was made of the opposite of malice. Anders was granted a new awareness of his body, a rush to his head that reminded him that he was here - here, and _alive._ That next breath felt like the first true one he had ever taken.

Those heated fingers traced a heart shape around the place where his own was on his chest, coming to meet with her palms laid over his pulse. “'And in your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame,’ or so it goes…by the Maker, you mages are insatiable.” Lips full of healing magic pressed against his heart, and her song changed its tune to one of adoration for both the mage and the spirit inside him. Without warning, though, she ran a mildly stinging electric shock to his spine.

He gasped enough air to make his chest swell against her lips, and his eyes flashed blue as his heart continued to quicken its pace. His arousal had built to throbbing, and his jaw was clenched tight against the urge to give in. His eyes, in that moment, screwed shut, and he sucked in air through his teeth before letting out a whinging sigh. “A-ah…” The rhythm thundered into Justice’s awareness, tossing him on the waves of Anders’ passion.

Hawke dragged loose fingertips, now charged with electricity to make them tingle on his skin, down the ridges of his ribs until they reached the swell of his belly. “Ah…here’s the source of all our problems.” Her fingers trailed in little circles, further and further down, but stopped just short of his smalls. “Bet a rebel like you’s got a real fire in your belly, hm?” she asked, huskily, as she left a line of fire-charged kisses from his rib cage to his navel, each one warmer than the last. “Mmm, and you _do_ look quite well-fed…wonder who’s been looking after you.” With the heels of her hands, she gently stretched out the soft skin around his belly button, allowing her to trace its edge with her tongue, which itself grew warm enough to sting. She now paused simply to watch him writhe in desperation.

He was very nearly swallowing his cries for release now. The moment she had turned her focus to his stomach, he knew for certain she had him right where she wanted him, and he knew even better that she knew the same. Even Justice found himself growing less and less patient - pushed much further, he would soon be forced to surface and demand that Hawke provide what she had promised. Tears now streamed from Anders’ eyes at the anticipation of what she would subject him to next. His abdominal muscles tensed on reflex until a mild ache passed through them. “L-lys–”

At last, she had an opportunity. With no warning, she plunged her tongue into his navel, delivering with it a biting heat. “You will call me 'Ser,’ mage. Are we clear?” she ordered.

“A-ah! Y-yes ser!” he cried out, a spasm of pleasure radiating through his body. He was forced to hiss through his teeth by the ache of his unanswered desire.

The sight of him in such a condition sent a hot flood down through Hawke from her chest, and she tightened her thighs around the one of his that she had straddled. “Good, good…you’re finally starting to come around.” As if to reward him, she flattened her tongue and drew gentle, meandering brush strokes across his belly, occasionally switching to scattered, affectionate touches of her lips. Meanwhile, her thumbs massaged penetrating circles into the flesh of his gut until it let out a satiated growl. Every single contact of her skin to his was charged with a tiny spark of healing magic to release some of the stress that his body had endured.

A blue glow had been flaring up on him in scattered spots. Justice continued to try to take over, but Anders’ lustful state still held the spirit inside his skin. This state of suffering, entwined with a near hunger for what only she could deliver, _should_ have contradicted his nature, but every touch of Hawke’s sang sweet truths to him. Hidden behind these acts of tender torment was a sense of pure adoration for mage and spirit both. She _reveled_ in Anders’ devotion to his - _their_ \- cause, and his passion thrilled her on every level she could perceive. Even if Anders himself could not always tell, Justice could not help but take notice. Though fingers, lips, and tongue played a game of punishing the mage, the spirit felt as the deepest veneration.

Anders, on the other hand, had been reduced to begging. “S-ser…” he whined, his hips shifting about beneath her. “Can I–”

Hawke’s breath hitched - her own patience was starting to wear down. “Soon, my dear apostate…very soon…when I feel like you’ve learned your place.” She tucked her fingers under the edge of his smalls, stroking at the junction of his hip and thigh, letting a finger catch the hairs nearby. “Tell me, mage…” she cooed, “Do you know the Maker’s second commandment?”

He knew it all too well, but it was still sour in his throat. “Y-yes ser…” he was forced to admit, another hungry gasp escaping him from the rubbing of his smalls against his throbbing loins.

“Then recite it,” she demanded, letting tiny static sparks crawl down his belly, into his smalls, and around his hard flesh.

“M-magi- _aaah!_ Hawke!” His recitation was cut off by a yelp, and another bolt of blue crossed his skin. The throbbing of his member traveled up to his temples, making him squint at the tension. “M-magic exists…nngh…t-to serve manandnevertoruleoverhim!” he cried out, his words slurring together under the pressure of his desire. “H-hawke…please!” he finally whined a fevered plea, blinking the tears and sweat out of his eyes.

She offered an approving rub of his thigh, squeezing his backside with heat in her fingers. Had she any more endurance, she would have drawn out more desperate begging, but just hearing that first submission finally made her give in. He had already earned his reward. “Good, _good_ …” she purred against his ear, at last freeing his arousal from his smalls and taking it into a gentle, warm, but firm grip. “Now it’s time to put that staff of yours to the Maker’s ordained use.” The first strokes were slow, measured, deliberate…

…and _agonizing._

 _“Maker!”_ came the apostate’s desperate moan as he was finally allowed to taste a promise of release. “M-more!”

She lingered for a moment, letting her fingers play with his coarse blonde curls. “How do we ask, mage?” she asked, softly hissing a near mocking of his want.

Justice roiled in his belly, making his eyes brighten. Now, she seemed to be toying with him. Once again, he tried to force himself to the surface, this time producing a fog of mana.

The sense of the spirit trying to take control sharpened Anders’ nerves. His fists clenched, tensing against his bindings. “P-please…ser!” he cried out, his voice cracking with urgency as he tried to ease Justice’s frustration. “Please!” he begged again, blinking the tears away from his eyes. It came out with more of a whining edge, the ache in his loins being nearly enough to break his will. “S-ser… _p-please_ …” His words were much quieter now, and his head was lowering almost on instinct.

Hawke swallowed hard. Her role in this act grew harder to maintain with every cry of her lover’s to be satisfied. A distant pang in her heart told her that he had probably begged a Templar like this for something he truly needed to live, once - it was too sincere.

“…Yes, love,” she finally addressed him, using one hand to guide his lips to hers and the other to tug aside her own smalls so she could take him inside her - the red fabric was soaked with her juices. With a slow, rhythmic series of sighs, she took his full length into her as she straddled him. From the way he was throbbing at first touch, she judged he would not last long. Fortunately for him, neither would she. Leaning into him, she guided his bound hands behind her head so he could still hold her in his arms. With her own, she took him into a protective embrace and pressed her lips against his forehead.

Sweat and tears were now blinding Anders’ eyes with their salty sting, and more perspiration still dripped from his hair. His Fade-soaked musk blended with hers in the air between them, creating an intoxicating aura that ensnared all his other senses as well. “L-Lys…” he sighed in raptured catharsis that lasted only a fraction of a second before he moaned her name again into the crook of her neck.  

His heart was pounding so heavily she could feel it in her own bosom, and she used it to find her rhythm. Once she did find it, though, she made it known with groans of sensual aggression. Though she sounded forceful, in her own mind, this was all for Anders.

She adored his lips and the rebellious words they spoke, as well as the sweet nothings he whispered.

She was more than grateful for him sticking out his neck for the people in his clinic and, Maker help her, she would _never_ let a hangman’s noose around it.

She valued nothing in this world or the next more than his heart, and she would guard that treasure with everything she had. That unquenchable flame was hers.

She was especially proud of the way her care had put a healthy weight in his belly. He needed that strength now more than ever.

At long last, hot spasms churned out from her gut in a fluttering rhythm that made her sharply whisper his name over the curve of his shoulder. 

_“Anders…”_

That simple act was enough to make him spill his seed into her with a gasp of release, and he sank back into the pillows as the whole of his body fell limp. “M-maker’s breath, love…T-that was…” He tried to put together some word to describe his satisfaction, only to give up and stretch his legs out. “…I’m sure…you can tell.”

A feverish chuckle escaped her as she rolled off him, instantly wrapping him up in a fur. “Yes, darling, I can tell.” A moment’s attention was taken up by loosing him from his bindings and hanging them back over the bedpost. Once this was done, though, she tucked herself in against his side and pressed her lips against his cheek as her hand came down to caress his belly. “I love you, Anders…” she cooed against his shoulder, placing a tender kiss there.

He interlocked his fingers with hers, taking in a relaxing breath and letting it roll out from his chest. “Mmm…and I you, sweetheart.” A love-drunk smile crossed his features and he let his eyes drift closed. A shift of his hips let him roll onto his own side and tuck himself closer to her, and he guided her hand to rest on his heart.

She eagerly adjusted to his new position, spilling more healing magic into his chest to gently calm his heart and breathing. “How’s Justice?” she asked, sending a soft wave of care through to the spirit.

A soft blue glow floated across his skin, and he slid their hands back down to his stomach. Justice had settled there in a state of rare peace. The love of the mages had provided him with a welcoming shelter from the fear and anguish that had been bearing down on him. If this was the power Hawke had over Anders, it was no wonder he had so easily fallen under her sway.

The mage himself had grown too weary to remain awake. He wanted to answer Hawke’s question, but exhaustion and a full belly overpowered his will to form words. His consciousness curled up in a pleasant dream, leaving Justice at the surface.


	6. The Justice She Deserves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice learns to put his feelings into words.

The spirit grew to fill his vessel’s conscious space, reaching out to the tune of the question posed. **“…I am well, Hawke.”** As he became aware of his surroundings, he felt about for a fur and used it to cover them, in case someone walked in. Once he was sure it would be shared with no one else, he settled back into her warmth and let the serene atmosphere fill the space around them. **“The devotion you bear to my vessel gives me peace. Of anywhere in this sick, degenerating city…this is the one place I know for certain Justice will always be found.”**

Hawke’s heart was brought to a flutter by the spirit’s words. “I’m glad to hear it.” As she so often did, she guided his hand up to his heart and let him feel it steadily pumping.

Justice let a relieved sigh rumble out from his gut. **“What mortals call ‘love’ is something no spirit can truly comprehend in full. We embody concepts too simple to grasp something so vivid. It can be selfish…but it can be self-sacrificing, even unto death. It can bear the deepest compassion…or turn to the cruelest jealousy. It can be devotion and loyalty…or a terrible hunger and lust. And it seems…”** A sudden chill went up his spine, more than likely from Anders’ dream. **“It seems so easy to twist it into something wicked. It is fragile…but stronger than stone.”** As he felt Anders shift in his dreams, he slid Hawke’s hand back down over his stomach. **“For a spirit, it can be strengthening…or it can be dangerous.”**

Hawke listened, without a word, to Justice’s musings, resting her chin on his shoulder and hugging his waist as thoughts of agreement slipped through his vessel’s skin.

 **“It is that danger that could turn us into demons. To be loved selfishly, to be _lusted_ after…it could have turned me into a demon of Desire or Pride or even Fear…more so if I had come to desire you in kind. But this…”** His voice grew almost soothing as he settled into her embrace. **“I _yearn_ for it. Not out of any of those desires that would corrupt me…but because it is what I _need._ Before, when I thought of you as a distraction, I was…”** He searched the Fade, as he often did, for his next words. **“… _Afraid._ I thought that Anders’ desires would be twisted toward you, and I would be left to rot in his mind. I believed that you would try to steer him away from his purpose, or try to deny me.”**

“ _Never,_ ” Hawke declared, tightening her arms around him. “Anders  _needs_ you, Justice. _I_ need you.” Her song bore a stirring refrain dedicated to their shared cause. “Mages need _us_.”

Justice rolled over to face her, gathering her into his arms as he had done before. **“Then I shall be here, as you need. But one thing has sparked my curiosity.”** His hands meandered gently onto her cheeks, and he leveled her eyes with his. **“I do not understand its meaning, so I must ask…”** A deep breath filled his lungs and stirred up the words from his chest. _ **“…**_ **Do you _love_** **me, Hawke?”**

The other mage suddenly found herself deprived of words. She wanted to say “yes,” but he was all too correct about love being so complex, and she had too many ideas of its meaning to assign only one to him. He was still a part of Anders, the man who was gradually taking up more and more space in her heart. The spirit himself, though, felt more like a family member to only her. And yet, it was also his cause and purpose she could not tear herself away from. As she had said, she _needed_ Justice, but not just for himself as a spirit. Every time she knew Anders suffered, she offered a piece of her own heart to help him bear the pain in his, but with it came scars of her own that swelled into a plea for the same things he sought. No mage, she thought, should ever suffer like him, but he was the one whose life she could change for the best.

She let her hands cross over Anders’ belly, letting them remain there so Justice could soak up her raw emotional energy. “Yes, Justice…I suppose I do.” Soft notes of her loyalty drifted out to envelop the spirit as she held him closer. “What that means to you, I don’t know…but…” She buried the awkward silence in his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Y-yeah. You get it.”

Justice found that his host’s heart was fluttering, and his cheeks had grown warm. Anders’ dream grew more pleasant still, and Hawke’s voice gently drifted through his memories like a soft autumn breeze. His mana was slowly building back up, and with it his ability to help Kirkwall’s ailing citizens. The spirit expected more restlessness, from the distant whispers of things that would have otherwise stirred Anders into mania, but found himself in a place of serenity.

 **“Then…”** he finally responded, following Anders’ senses to rest his hand over Hawke’s arm. **“I do not know for myself what it means…but if it is what I am feeling…I would like to offer the same to you.”** His other hand sought out her cheek, fingertips navigating the texture of her skin. **“ _This_ …is the Justice you deserve.”** He took her into a strong, full-body embrace, pressing him host’s bare skin against hers until he could feel her heart beating next to his. His hands wandered up her back, taking in the fiery sonatas of the sinews there as his fingers pressed into them like the playing of strings. Once again, they found the warm gold of her hair and defined rivers through it. A deep breath filled his host’s lungs, itself slipping sweetly into fresh mana, only to be spent spilling it all out against her lips. One hand left her back to search out the one belonging to the other mage, interlacing every finger and squeezing fervently.

The moment Hawke felt his fingers slide between hers, she was already offering a firm squeeze of her own. Her song swelled into a mighty aria that sought union with the spirit. At last, she parted her lips from his to take a breath. “M-maker…” she murmured against his neck, holding on to him as she rolled them both to the side. “I’ll _definitely_ accept that offer.” Warm fingertips traced the glowing lines on his cheek as she cupped his jaw once more. “…Do you need anything else from me, Justice?”

He seized the hand that touched his face, tucking his thumb into the space of hers. **“Only that you stay true to this cause, and to me. Already, you have done far more than I could ever rightly ask.”**

She answered his request with a kiss of devotion to his forehead. “And I’ll do no less.” Slowly, she lifted herself to sit up and laid his head against her lap. “You just take a while to wind down and let Anders rest. I’ll set up the writing desk for your manifesto and then get over to the clinic.”

“N-no…” Anders’ voice suddenly broke through Justice’s awareness. “H-hawke…please, you can’t…” he cried out, still apparently asleep. 

Justice sprang back into full control, seizing Hawke and pinning her down against the bed. **“Do not leave me here like this!”** he demanded, with all due passion and urgency. His arms found their own way around her shoulders, and he reached with near desperation for the sound of her song. **“…You…cannot…MUST not simply leave me to my solitude…I…Hawke, I…I _fear_ you going out there alone.” **His heart had gone from fluttering to pounding with anxiety. **“The Templars could…the Templars…the Templars will NEVER! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!”** He rose away from her with a roar, magic surging off him like steam.

“Justice!” Hawke shouted after him, throwing out a healing spell to remind him she was still present. “There are no Templars here! You’re _safe!_ ” She brought herself to his eye level, reaching out to touch his heart. “I promise, Anders, you’re alright. I’m _here,_ ” she went on, her voice quiet but firm. “Come back to me, love…” 


	7. Heartsong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Justice find their own sanctuary with Hawke.

Justice’s glow faded as Anders gasped awake, his vision at last returning and the wind against his bare skin chilling him to shiver. “L-lys…?” he mildly groaned, sliding his hand over where hers was pressed. This turned into a desperate tug of her closer to him, his arms climbing up her back and pinning her against his chest as tears misted the corners of his eyes. “…I’m sorry, love–”

His flood of apologies was stopped with a comforting kiss and her fingers softly parting divides in his hair. “I love you, Anders,” she reminded him, rising just enough to rest her chin on the top of his head. “I was going to go to the clinic…but you started having that nightmare and Justice got scared.” As she spoke, she brought him back down to the bed and gently nudged him to his earlier position - resting against her, with her holding him.

Anders’ attention was occupied with his overworked heart. “I-I can tell.” Justice still buzzed in his nerves, still on edge until Hawke’s familiar song laid over him like dew before dawn. A withering sigh washed out from his lips as he curled up against the warmth of her naked skin. Sense and memory soon trickled back into him, and with it a degree of peace of mind. “…You’re warm, Lys,” he whispered softly against the pillow, gently hissing out her name until his voice cracked with weary contentment.

She gave a firm squeeze to his waist, resting her hands flat against his stomach. Mana spilled out from his skin to hers, mixing the powers of heat and healing. “ _Just_ warm?” she asked in a gentle tease, sliding her chin over his shoulder and brushing her lips against the stubble that grew on his jaw.

The apostate smiled from one ear to the other as his cheeks flushed, and he reflexively buried his face into the pillow, making a muffled noise of delight that ended in a blissful sigh. “It’s…M-maker,” he gasped mildly as an ecstatic chill took him over at the thought of her presence. “It’s like a big roaring fire when you come out of the cold.” He shifted his feet under the layers of sheets covering them until they found hers, taking in even more of the heat there. “I’ve been there…” he mused, “The second time I escaped the Circle…it was winter. The lake had frozen over, so I was able to run across it in the middle of the night…” The memory made him shiver and Justice curl up in his gut. “But I didn’t have anything I needed to survive. I ended up freezing and starving, and–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Hawke tugged him close and pressed her hands lightly against his belly. “Shhh…No, love…you said you wanted to come _out_ of the cold. So…” She stroked his ankle with a toe, leaving an attentive kiss on his temple. “Come out of the cold.” Her arm muscles flexed tighter around him, and the heat of her mana flared out to shroud him. “Come to that roaring fire, love…” she let her voice rumble low, slowing to almost a gentle droning as she warmed her hands with magic and resting them over his heart. 

Anders was far from able to keep his eyes from falling shut. “Mm…yeah…yeah, this is good…” He could only utter single-beat words as he let Hawke become an experience of pure sense.

Her skin and magic throbbed and flickered, creating a shell to shelter him from the encroach of nightmares and need. “The Templars won’t find you here…” she went on, brushing her lips against his sensitive earlobe and letting her fingers interlace over his belly. “I’m here, love…and I’m not going anywhere.” Her hands slowly rocked against his stomach, letting magic flow into him at his core and enshroud Justice. “One day…all mages will be able to feel like this.”

He let out a soft, agreeing moan, nuzzling the pillow languidly. “Nn…Free…mages…” He muttered in acknowledgment, tucking his fingertips under her palm and warming them with their shared heat.

“That’s right, love…” She continued to repeat that same word against his ear, to let it seep into his consciousness. “That’s what we’re going to do. _All_ the mages, every single one.” As she spoke, she ran her fingers in feathery circles under his ribs. “That includes _my_ handsome, hard-working healer.”

A soft flush took over his cheeks, and he turned his head in toward the pillow with an exhausted smile. _I love you_ , he wanted to say, but it just came out as a string of incomprehensible noises that dissolved into a rumbling sigh and took his tired mind with it.

Justice rolled over to face Hawke once again, bringing his forehead in to rest against hers. The echo of Anders’ last waking thoughts still lined his awareness. **“Anders…loves you, Hawke.”** The words rolled out softly from his chest, falling nearly in rhythm with his steady heartbeat.

A warm smile came to her lips before she tucked his head just below her chin. “You say that like I’m still leaving you out of all this.”

The spirit followed the sound of Hawke’s own beating heart to her chest, where he allowed his head to rest. The song that came through there wrapped him in layer after layer of sanctuary. Words formed on mortal lips could no longer serve his feelings right. He could only hold her closer still, burying his face in the warmth of her bosom. 

**“Hawke,”** he finally spoke, turning his head so his words were clear. **“Before I met with and inhabited this vessel called ‘Anders,’ I was bound against my will to the corpse of a dead Grey Warden.”** A pause, to allow her to listen. **“Kristoff, he was called. And there was a mortal woman…”** Even the memory of the woman’s name left a sweet note in the spirit’s being. **“…Aura was her name. She was bound in marriage to this Kristoff in life…and even in death, his flesh carried warm memories of her. I did not understand such things, then…but I found them pleasant. Now, with you and Anders…”**

Hawke could already predict the path of this conversation. “Oh, Justice…” A fond warmth filled her cheeks, and she gave an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder.

He did not even have to speak any more of it to be filled with more of her adoration. **“This… _this_ is exactly what I speak of. If you could still give me– _us_ –this…” **Words once again fled from his grasp, and he seized Hawke’s lips with his own in an attempt to express what was ringing inside him. When at last he let them part, words in an unfamiliar tongue rolled loose.

“Hm?” asked Hawke softly, running slender fingers through his hair. “What was that?”

 _ **“…Ich liebe dich, meine geschätzt Herzlied.”**_ He spoke in a voice that was softer still, nearly a whisper, against her ear.

Anders had taught her only a bit of his mother tongue, but she knew enough to understand, and it formed a soft cluster of warmth in her chest that she returned as a long, adoring kiss to his glowing temple. “I love you too, Justice…I just wish there was some way for me to show you how much.”

Justice could feel the same familiar heat as before, but it was building in other places - his cheeks, his heart, his belly. Anders was sleeping now, unaware - he was not involved in this at all. His throat closed around nothing, capturing it and dropping it into his stomach. **“There…may yet be a way.”**


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Justice find their own sanctuary with Hawke.

“Talk to me,” Hawke requested, touching some healing magic to his heart and sending a song of comfort into it.

There was a long, heavy silence as the thoughts stewed in his gut. **“…When you…desired me in lust, I was afraid. But what you desire from me now, and likewise, what I desire from you…closeness. Certainty. These, I can provide.”**

As Hawke considered Justice’s meaning, a heated blush took over her cheeks. “…Are you sure, Justice? I…I don’t want to hurt you. Or Anders.”

The spirit let out a slow, rumbling sigh as he paged through the scattered memories of his vessel’s senses. **“You have shown that you are worthy of our trust. I do not fear coming to harm with you. As for Anders…”** There was another long pause, as he looked in closer upon his host’s dream. **“I must consult him further on this matter. This is _his_ mortal vessel, and it would turn me against my purpose to use it like this against his will.” **

She gave a soft, warm breath and rolled onto her back, looking over at the soft blue glow emanating from his skin and pondering their current state. As she followed a glowing line with her eyes, it sparked a rising thought. “…Actually, I think I’ve got an idea.”

 **“Tell me,”** said the spirit as he rolled onto his side, letting Anders’ body get comfortable again.

She tucked herself against his back, hanging an arm over his waist. “Next time we… _next time_ , let Anders get things started, and have him let you just kind of…” Attempting to explain the details to him just left her making awkward hand gestures.

Not that such an explanation was needed - Justice could make sense of it well enough, much more so through the flow of her thoughts. **“…I see. Anders might guard me from the influence of your desire while I… _hmm._ ” **A certain anticipation gripped his consciousness, causing a shiver to crawl up his vessel’s spine. **“If your devotion then will be what it was this day…”** The tone of his voice changed subtly, almost becoming smoother and more full of breath. **“…I may find it more pleasant than I have imagined.”**

Her hand came to rest on his belly yet again, tracing soft lines along the edges of his ribs. “Speaking of, were you alright with what we did…this time?” For reasons she could not put her finger on, speaking in explicit terms of such things to the spirit still somehow felt taboo.

Justice found himself chewing the inside of his lip at the thought. He remembered being bound at the wrists, prevented from acting, while Anders was subjected to Hawke’s will. Yet, instead of hurting the mage, she adored every part of him and brought him life and sense. What Justice remembered most, though, was that when Anders did start to feel painful memories, she dropped their act instantly and delivered him to sweet, rapturous release that left him in the Fade. Even more curiously, Justice himself was not left out of this tryst - Hawke had paid soft but deep respect to him during the entire act. His was still the virtue at the root of all of it, as he was told and shown in every note of the song her touch sang to him alone. Somehow, this added a new taste to the storm of sensations that coursed through Anders’ body every time he and Hawke engaged in these acts. **“In all truth, Hawke…I will never be able to grow completely accustomed to this as you mortals are. That said…”** His eyes closed in a long, slow blink. **“…Placing him in bonds may serve Anders’ desires…but I cannot abide this if I am to meet yours.”**

It wasn’t hard to understand at all why being bound would perturb the spirit. “So…no ropes, then?” she asked, squeezing the tense muscles of his arms to help them relax.

He rolled on his side to face her, hands blindly navigating her body until he found fingers to interlace his own with. **“…No,”** he said, firmly, letting the note of his decline hang in the air. It gave an armored film to his consciousness that guarded him enough to let him hold her hand. **“I cannot let you bind me, Hawke. It would be…dangerous, for all of us - you, Anders, and myself.”**

She answered the squeezing of her hand in kind, letting the pads of her palm press against his. “I understand.” Her fingers gently toyed with his, defining a shape of them for him to follow. “My offer from earlier _is_ still open, though. If it makes you more comfortable, you can tie me up instead.”

His hand fell limp against hers as the spirit nearly withdrew his control from the limb. **“Why should I do this to you? You have done nothing wrong, and…”** His muscles tensed again, making him clutch her hand as before. **“You deserve to be free, Hawke. I…”** He squinted and turned his head. **“This is not even a matter of being against my nature. I have no wish to–”**

“Who said I did _anything_ wrong?” she asked, turning to free her arm so she could hold his hand with both. “I _want_ this, Justice. I want _you_ to feel safe with me. I want to be _sure_ I can’t hurt you.”

His throat swelled with a gulp. **“…This is not simply about you bringing harm to me. This is–”** The lump in his throat stubbornly refused to drop into his gut where it belonged. **“…I feel as you do. I do not want to harm you. There is…nothing just about this.”** His voice rumbled with tones of reluctance and worry. **“Anders and I have been haunted by nightmares of you being in the Templars’ chains, or Tranquil–”**

He went abruptly silent as a stir of fear went through his sleeping host. Only the touch of Hawke’s hands kept him from losing control again, sheltering him with a song of certainty. Tugging her by an arm, he gathered her into his and made a guarding shell around her with his body. **“…They will not have you. I swear this by the spires of the Black City. Should a Templar’s hands touch even a hair on your head…”** As his fingers touched her hair, a shiver of warmth went up his vessel’s spine and his arms pressed tighter to her back. **“I will grind his bones until they are as the dust of the earth.”**

Hawke frowned with concern of her own and offered a comforting rub to his shoulder. “And if one gets hold of you, I’ll burn them alive in their armor. I promise.” With that, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “You see, Justice? I _trust_ you. I trust you with my _life._ I have faith in you, that you won’t hurt me.” The same hand found its way to his heart, cupping it so he could feel its vibration. “That’s what all this is about, really. I trust you so much I’m _willing_ to let you do this to me, because I want you to feel as secure as possible. If that means having me completely at your mercy, then so be it.”

There was a long silence from the spirit, and that lump that had taken up residence in his throat finally sank into his belly. **“…I see.”** Still, though, he was hesitant. **“But even you know you cannot completely trust me, Hawke. I…I may still get lost in my desire.”**

The hand that was on his heart moved to cup his cheek. “I’ve got something for that, actually…it’s called a safe word.”

Just the name of whatever this ‘safe word’ was offered Justice a promise of security, somehow. **“…Go on.”**

That approval brought a relieved smile to Hawke’s lips, which she let rest against his jaw as she spoke softly to him. “It’s a word you use when things really do get to be too much. When it hurts, or when you get too scared, or you just don’t feel like you can take any more…you just say the word and we stop. Right then, right there, no questions asked.”

Justice continued to listen, but a vexing question was brought to his mind. **“…Why is it not enough to simply tell me to stop?”**

Hawke’s expression became sheepish. “W-well…it’s because it’s a sure way to get your attention. Besides…I might be telling you to stop, but I might not actually _want_ you to.” She couldn’t hide a little snicker as she spoke. “None of this is for _real_ , Justice. We–Anders and I–like to have these little…stories, you might call them. They…” Another chuckle broke up her words. “They…make it more interesting. We can get into places in our minds that we could never safely get into otherwise.” she paused to sit up, tenderly guiding Justice’s head into her lap. “It’s…kind of like a dream. But we’re both in total control. The safe word would be like waking up.”

At last, the concept seemed to make some sort of sense the spirit could grasp. Another one of those deep, heavy sighs came from the pit of his gut and filled his chest before rumbling out into the air. **“So, then…if one of us utters this word, the other will desist that instant. What… _is_ this word?”** His heart had begun skipping beats at this idea, that Hawke could reach out to him with a single uttered word in mortal tongue. Of course, he would _absolutely_ listen.

Hawke let her hand slide down into the soft spot under Justice’s ribs. “Mine is 'Blight,’ she explained, flashing through to him a memory of her family’s flight from the Darkspawn. A jarring thought - exactly her intention. "Anders’ is–”

 _ **“Freiheit,”**_ Justice finished her sentence with Anders’ native word for the thing he thirsted for most. **“I could feel it curling, twisting in his belly. Ready to release his pain.”** He still remembered vividly the way Anders seemed to begin to break under her domination. **“But…he did not need it. You _saw_ his suffering, and you ended it. You…” ** He sat up with a start, enough to rouse the mage’s mind from sleep. **“You took him– _us_ –in your arms, protected us. You embraced us with all you had in your being, and you poured adoration into us. I…I did not expect such mercy.”** Rising on his knees, he pressed Hawke to his chest with both arms over her back, letting her take in the sounds of his vessel’s fluttering heart. **“This is…this is more than just.”** His voice became softer still as Anders woke up further, sliding back in from the Fade into the crevices of his mind and requesting a hand to take his pulse. Justice obliged, touching fingertips to a spot near Hawke’s cheek over his heart. Relieved and pleased, Anders offered thanks to the spirit, but did not rise to take control yet. Rather, he preferred to simply wait and see how this turn of events would further develop **. “Rest assured, Hawke, I trust you. I trust you far more than any other mortal I have encountered in all my walks among them.”**

Hawke wasted no time squeezing the hand near where her head rested. “And I trust you more than any other spirit I’ve ever met. That’s what Justice means to me, really…” she confessed, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You can’t have justice in a place where there’s no trust to see it done.”

No statement from any mortal had ever rung more true in Justice’s being. **“Yes…this is true.”** At last, Anders requested to come forward fully, to kiss her and fill her with his gratitude. Reluctantly, Justice conceded, but stayed just below the surface - he could not stand to be away from Hawke even for a moment.


	9. Their Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no justice where there cannot be trust.

Anders let his hold on her loosen, but still did not let her go - the touch of her still sang to Justice as clearly as before. He replaced the tightness of his embrace with the softness of the touch of his lips against hers, only to hold her and lead her to fall into the bed with him, with Justice’s perceptions filling the space between them. The warmth of their shared senses gathered under his ribs, in the spirit’s usual resting place. At last, he traded the touch of his lips to hers for the touch of shared brows. “Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, letting his voice gently crack as he gazed into her fire-gold eyes. “Have I told you yet today how beautiful you are?” Pleased creases formed at the corners of his eyes, and his lips bowed into a widening smile.

She looked back at him as if he were a single torch in the dark. “Hearing it one more time certainly doesn’t hurt.” Only a slight turn of her hips was necessary to allow her space to return her hand to his belly. “Fitting, then, that I get such a handsome mage to have for my own, hmm?” Gently, she slid down along the length of his torso and planted several soft, mana-warmed kisses against his stomach.

From that instant, he could only lay there in blissful repose as warm shivers went up his spine and reddened his face with delight. Justice nearly leapt at the sensation, flickering through in the form of a tiny blue flare in Anders’ pupils. “…What about Justice, love? Has _he_ told you?” A blue cloud of mana drifted off his fingertips as he cupped her cheek. The spirit next asked for Anders’ lips, to press them against the top of Hawke’s head. The taste of a sweet, golden song soaked into his senses, from the touch of her hair. Their shared perception was bathed in the warmth of her presence; it was enough to make their heart tremble, and tears were loosed from their eyes. “Maker, I love you…” he sighed, sending wisps of healing magic into the muscles of her back until she was completely enshrouded in his and Justice’s aura.

Ordinarily, Hawke was the one who took the protective role over Anders and Justice. For this moment, though, they were together healer and defender, indivisible - precisely how she needed them most. Her arms came around his waist, and her cheek fell against his heart. “I love you _both,_ ” she declared, spilling a fervent song of admiration into both of them with raw, hot mana.

Their body temperature rose to feverish levels, causing sweat to bead on their brow and their breaths to become heavy sighs. He let his eyes droop shut as her magic filled him, relaxing his muscles and mind. Justice, however, still had other interests that had yet to be satisfied.

“So, Lys…” Anders began, rather casually, turning on his side and propping his chin up on an arm. “You and Justice seemed to have…gotten to know each other better.” His words might have been an accusation, if not for the curl of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Well…” said Hawke, reaching out to rub his hip. “Y-yeah. I was waiting for you to wake up anyhow, so we could talk about it.”

That smirk of his grew wider as he listened, His heart started to beat faster as Justice rumbled in anticipation, and he offered control of a hand to rest on her shoulder. “Well, I’m awake now, so…talk to me, love.”

She stroked gentle, almost playful circles on his hip, sliding her fingers over his backside. “You know I love you both…but Justice can’t handle the way I want you. So…” she trailed off with a squeeze to his thigh, “We figured that th thing to do was for you to…” Her roaming hand came over his hip and meandered down into the trail of hair on his lower stomach, and her fingers offered a tender massage. “…soak up all my… _lust_ , as Justice put it.”

Electric heat crawled through his bones, catching Justice and himself both in a hot shiver. “Hmm…yes, I think I do like this idea.” His interest had become quite obvious now. “You lust after me, do you?” he asked, his voice husking with sensual intent as he squeezed Hawke’s bicep, turning her onto her back. “You really think you’re entitled to me, don’t you?” Justice, on reflex, braced himself for the impending rush of Anders’ physical and emotional arousal that would soon inevitably tangle with Hawke’s. Anders handed control of his hands over, allowing Justice to seize her by the arms and bring them together. “You grew up free,” he pointed out, borrowing control back just for a moment to lace Hawke’s wrists with the soft leather cord that held him only a short while ago. “The rest of us mages should be so lucky.” His voice edged with sternness.

The moment she felt Justice’s hands take her wrists, Hawke could already predict where this was going - not that it did anything to lessen her excitement. She gave a press of a knee to his chest, as if to try to fight him off. “I work _hard_ for you, Anders,” she answered, her wrists twisting and writhing under the firmness of her restraints. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at full attention. “You’d think I’d deserve– _AAAH!_ ”

He turned her protests into a sharp gasp with a light application of electric mana to both of her breasts at once. “You don’t work _half_ as hard for me as I do for you and the rest of Kirkwall. Day after day…night after night…I–” Justice cut in to add his own emphasis. “ _ **BURN**_ myself up for this Maker-forsaken city. My body, my mind…” His words swelled with passion and deepened with Justice’s influence. “My very _soul_ are being _consumed_ by the cause of freedom for mages. _Your_ freedom.” He came down to her eye level, taking her by the chin and making her look into his eyes. “…I don’t really think you appreciate what freedom means.”

The stars faded from Hawke’s vision, only to be replaced with the blue fire in her lovers’ eyes. When Anders’ voice took this tone, she was powerless to do anything but listen. A twinge of fear twisted up in her gut, though - what would he do with this power over her? “I-I’m sorry, love, I-I try to understand…I really do…Maker, I wish–”

The painful shock of electricity was offset by tiny sparks of healing magic flowing from his fingers to her heart. “Shhh, love, it’s alright,” he reassured her, silencing her once again with a warm press of his lips to her own. “There’s no way I’d ever make you go through what I did…at least not back _then._ ” His tender smile quickly turned into a gloating smirk. “As for tonight, though…Justice _must_ be served,” he declared, letting the spirit rise to the surface for just long enough to make his eyes flash. He held her head in place by her jaw with both hands, letting his fingers tangle into her already unkempt hair. “And I intend to deliver…” He focused his senses entirely on his voice, instructing Justice to drop the pitch deep into his belly while leaving his lips and tongue in his own control. “… _Kleine Vogel._ ”

“Little bird,” he had called her. Just those words made her heart burst into a fervent song, laced with love and thirst and a vibrato of anxiety. That healing spell only made her pulse race even more as euphoric shivers flooded out from her bosom to the rest of her. She still held the memory of her own path down his body. He was already paying service to her lips, next would be her neck. A lump was already forming exactly there.

The healer’s fingers carried magic down along the sides of her neck, first humid heat, then freezing ice. Clouds of cold fog shrouded her shoulders like a cloak, rolling down her back and raising every follicle into a bump. “You’re so full of fire, my love. I wonder…how much cold can it stand?” He let more fog roll over her collarbone and breasts, raising her nipples until they were hard.

The Champion let out a shivering whine, through teeth pressed together from the chill. “A-anders…” she murmured, his name coming out in a fog of her breath.

“What was that, love?” he asked, his tone unabashedly mocking. “I can’t hear you. Perhaps if I were to get closer…” It was the perfect pretext for his next move. Slowly, he leaned in to her as if to listen, but suddenly switched course and latched his lips onto her neck as a hand full of hot mana cupped her breast.

His hand burned against her chilled skin like a brand, bringing out a wanton moan. “ _Anders!_ ” Her fingers writhed and twisted around one another, until she managed to get her hands clasped together - she was going to need them in this position later. The cry of his name was steeped in carnal thirst, but flowed with a core of the sort of adoration sought by Justice.

Hearing his name cried out with such need brought his cock to twitching. “That’s right, _Kleine Vogel…_ ” He rewarded her with a much softer kiss to her neck, in the same way he would use to greet her after a hard night in Kirkwall. Justice was allowed control of one arm to form one half of an embrace, while Anders himself completed the other half. For a brief moment, they broke away from their role to offer her the comfort of their company. 

“ _Ich liebe dich_ ,” they whispered together, against the shell of her ear, before returning the hand he controlled to the same breast as before, a warm thumb tenderly prodding against her nipple. “…Mmm…you weren’t kidding about that unquenchable flame…Maker, look at who I’m talking about. What is it that Varric calls you…” He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in obvious faux contemplation. “… _Spitfire_? How fitting.”

She found herself wishing that embrace could last forever, even with her arms bound up as they were. In that moment, her heart swelled with a love for both mage and spirit that flooded into the song that Justice felt. All she could offer him was a deep, longing gaze, though it was drawn all too quickly to what would be the instrument of her own discipline.

Maker, he was _hard_. It wasn’t a matter of if, but _when_ he would allow her to have it - and it was entirely up to him, for once. To _them._ Justice, too, had jurisdiction here, as she could tell by the occasional flash of blue that ran over his skin. “Anders, I…I _need_ you,” she finally confessed, swallowing hard as she anticipated what he might demand from her in return.

It was here that Anders’ edge over Hawke was most visible - he would last much longer than her, and thus could draw much more out of her than she did from him. “Ah-ah, sweetheart…you haven’t quite _earned_ me yet. You don’t seem to quite grasp what Justice truly means, either. What it means…” Once again, he let the spirit take his voice. “…Is that I get to have my way with you first, the way you did with me.” A wicked chuckle broke from him, and he shook his head tauntingly. “…But you’re not going to get admired, _ooohh_ no _._ You’ve got enough people admiring you. What I’m going to do to you…” Lips charged with electricity danced along the outer edges of the nipple that had not been cared for by his hand. “Is make you beg for me the way you made me beg for you. I’m going to make you want _us_ so badly you’ll never take your freedom for granted again.”

“B-but I already wa- _AH!_ ” A shrill cry erupted from her at the spark that went through her skin from his lips. “I-I already want you, Anders…” A sigh made her head drop enough to cause her long, golden blonde hair to hang in her face. Her heart pounded against the hand that cupped her breast, every beat carrying with it waves of desire.

Justice pushed himself into the perception of those fingertips, taking in the thundering of her want for his host. At last, he felt strong enough to surge forth to the surface, the Fade breaking through his vessel’s skin. **“Hawke…”** his voice boomed from low in his belly as his consciousness reached for her pulse. **“You desire Anders…but you have no idea of the depths to which I desire _you._ ”**

That familiar glow and that commanding voice only stirred her heart to throbbing. “J-Justice…” For the moment, her lust was diverted into reverence. “I-I thought you said…desire wasn’t good for you.”

 **“There are things,”** the spirit began, pressing his fingertips into her breast, **“that virtues inspire in mortals.”** Under Anders’ promptings, he allowed his words to come slower, smoother, and much more deliberate. **“Such passion, such _zeal_ you have, Hawke…for the cause of mages, for _me_ … _that_** **is what I desire.”** His other hand made a neat curve around her other breast, and he pushed her back onto the bed, drawing in a deep breath and drinking her intoxicating hymn. **“I want to stir your heart to _pounding_ in your breast,” ** he declared, his voice barely rising above a rumbling whisper as he pressed Fade-scarred lips to her collarbone. **“…I want your blood to run _hot_ with your thirst for freedom.” ** And it did, by what he could feel of her veins through his lips. His hands traveled lower along the muscles of her lower chest and stomach. **“I want your sinews to _burn_ with dedication.” **

As Justice spoke, her body obeyed - her heart pounded like a war drum, her blood roiled with passionate heat, and her muscles tensed down to her core. Yet, tears also streamed from her eyes at the way her heart swelled with all the love she bore for them.

Her song, too, swelled into a full orchestra in Justice’s perception. This, this _precisely_ , was what he was searching for. Not a lust for him in flesh, but in spirit and mind - a selfless love for his virtue. His hands, for a brief moment, came back up to cup both sides of her jaw. **“I want these lips to speak - to _cry out_ \- of your devotion.** ” To drive his point deeper into her senses, he pressed glowing lips to hers, tongue prodding them apart so Anders could taste her hunger for himself. When at last they agreed to move on, their hands traced a wandering path back down to her waist and their lips were soon to follow.

Hawke’s next free breath was drawn sharp enough to cave her stomach and swell her ribs. She hissed Justice’s name under the next sigh as her back pressed into arching. The words he spoke had the power to unite her awareness of thought, feeling, and sense until her very soul bled out through every pore. “J-Justice, I–…” She could barely form words now, under the haze of need that wrapped around her being.

Anders took over his hands again, weaving magics of fire and ice over her skin, working them into her muscles all the way down to her hips. Justice, however, still had control of his voice. **“I want to make your mortal flesh _sing_ with sense.”** With Anders’ guidance, he trailed a line of kisses, one after another, down her stomach, until he reached her navel…and then he stopped, and waited.

Hawke knew _exactly_ what should have been coming next, already bracing herself for Anders’ revenge with eyes screwed shut. Yet, he allowed a full minute to pass without doing a thing of the sort. Even this part of the game was familiar to her - he’d wait until she couldn’t take the apprehension anymore, until her patience ran out and she was reduced to begging him even for what she knew would be pain. And yet, it did nothing to lessen her need. Her stomach muscles tightened, waiting for the inevitable.

And yet, it still did not come. Rather, Justice feathered the tenderest, softest kiss he had given her yet in the place where she expected him to deliver a sting like the one that made Anders cry out her name before. A quiet, moaning sigh washed out from his lips against her skin. **“I learn more about the mortal world with each day that passes. Through you, Hawke…I have learned what _beauty_ is.” **

Her vision blurred with the sting of tears that rolled back along her temples onto the bedsheet. Her song burst into _fortissimo_. and her lips formed his name. Her muscles loosened, and she let out a heaving sigh.

This was precisely the moment Anders had been waiting for - he had to get her guard down first. When he saw her muscles relax, he pulled Justice back just long enough to drive his tongue deep into her navel with the same stinging heat she had used against him.

The cry that this brought from Hawke was worth every second he had made her wait. Every nerve in her body was firing now, every muscle quivering. “A-Anders…love…” she nearly whined through the tears that now stained the sheets, blinking the fog out of her eyes so she could see him. She raised her bound wrists, hands clasped, out before her. “Please, I can’t wait much longer.”

His arousal throbbed harder as he listened to her pleas, but he forced back his urge for release with a low growl under his breath. “ _Can’t_ you?” There was something about this power - this knowledge that he, a haggard, spirit-possessed apostate healer from Darktown who was fighting a losing battle against the powers that be, could reduce the legendary _Champion of Kirkwall_ to carnal moans, cries of pleasure and pain, tears of overwhelming emotion, and _begging_ \- stirred his blood to a volcanic burn. “Ah, look at you, my little bird…” he softly teased, pulling back out of reach to admire his work.

Her long golden hair, once in fine, soft rivers, was now a scattered mess beneath her head. Her cheeks were flushed deep crimson, glowing with desire and beading with sweat. Her eyes were red and hazing with hungry lust that now dominated the whole of her sensory faculties. Her hands were clasped together, bound at the wrists, in total supplication. She was pressing her thighs together, attempting to relieve her need on her own.

He could hardly hold on to his pride, though, before he found himself completely smitten with the sight. Even now, his beloved was still trying to hold on to some form of her freedom. This slip in his focus allowed Justice to surface - her song had grown weak to him.

 **“Hawke,”** came the spirit’s deeper voice, **“Why do you _beg_ for your freedom?” **There was a familiar harshness in his tone now, usually only used when speaking of the cause. He came down to his knees, then to all fours, over the top of her, until she could stare into the glowing light of his eyes. **“Mages beg for theirs every day, but it is _never_ granted.” **He let his face come closer still until his forehead rested against hers, and took her bound wrists in his hands. **“If you truly desire freedom, you must _demand_ it.**” Every word rumbled out from so deep in his belly that she could feel it against her own. **“You are no small bird, Lysandra Hawke…”** he murmured as he brought his lips to her ear, **“You…are a bird of _prey._ For such a creature to be caged is not only injustice…it is _wrong._ ” **

Her lungs filled with a silent gasp, and her gaze sharpened at the feeling of his words. Once again, Justice was as right as he could be. Her hands pulled out of clasping, and she managed to push them open against his chest. “ _Anders,_ ” she addressed the mage, her eyes catching a commanding light from the fire that now surged within her.

The sound of his name pulled Anders’ attention back to the front of his mind, where his first new sight was far different from his last. The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice made his throat tighten on reflex and Justice demand that he listen to her words. “Yes, _Kleine Vogel_?”

Hawke used her superior strength to push Anders up, despite the leather laces holding her wrists. “I don’t need to _earn_ any of this.” She let her mind rush, for a moment, through the passionate declarations she had heard pass his lips and the stirring words flowing from his quill. Her song for Justice then swelled into a battle march, full of righteous fervor. “Mages everywhere are begging for their freedom, doing everything they can to earn it.” Her tone took on a passion that matched his own when he himself spoke of their cause. “I’m done begging. You _will_ give me what I rightly deserve, or I will take it for myself.” She had enough strength in her now to shove the mage down, and enough care to avoid injuring him. Her wrists came together under his rib cage, and she dug her fingertips into the sides of his belly until her nails left angry red marks.

Anders was left breathless, and his heart drummed out a fever beat in his chest. Justice thrilled in his skin with every single word she spoke, his presence coursing through his bones and reaching out for Hawke’s devotion. Every vessel in his body throbbed with the rush of hot blood, forcing him to flare his nostrils in a heady sigh to restrain his sensual charge. The Fade cracked through his skin in various places, including the nerves of his swollen shaft.

Justice was burning - no, he _was_ the flame itself. He was wrapped, completely, in the fire of the mages’ craving for one another, but also in their shared ardor for _him._ Both of their souls were crying out madly for him and what he embodied, catching him in the quickening storm of righeous fury that swirled between his vessel and their beloved.

 _I NEED her…_ he hissed in Anders’ mind, at the same time a wave of heat flooded through his loins. _WE need her. SHE needs us._ The muscles of his forearms twitched with electric sense as he took his position over her once more, his blue glow shining off every gleaming drop of sweat on her skin. **“Yes…”** they whispered together, sharing equal power over their lips, tongue, and lungs. **“You’re right, my love. You’re absolutely right.”** This was a much softer tone they spoke in as the hand Justice controlled glided down between her thighs. He formed the pads of this thumb and fingers around the sinews there, firmly pressing bright, Fade-tipped fingertips into her skin until it whitened around their edges. Her flesh echoed his yearning song back to him, writing a tremble into his chest that made him hesitate.

A sudden wisp of healing magic wrapped around his hand, weaving its way through his fingers and tightening, as if someone was clasping his hand in theirs. The shield of sense around his desire grew stronger and thicker, and Anders offered him warm reassurance - if he did not wish to go so far, he could retreat and let his host handle the rest. Though he appreciated the offer, Justice refused, only instructing Anders to let him have his breath. With this now allowed him, he took in a lungful of air and let it wash away his fears. This, as Anders reminded him, was an act of adoration shared between the three of them. His fade-soaked touch was _freedom_ to her, and her song was in full accord to this fact. At last, with his heart drumming out a beat in his head, he let his fingers trail through her fine, curled hairs. With Anders’ guidance, he let a finger dip lower and tenderly press against her clitoris.

It felt like a tiny, hard, hot little pellet that made Hawke’s song swell into such a powerful surge that she joined in with a soft, whining aria of her own. Anders offered some mana, and Justice’s borrowed fingertips warmed with magic. He next began a slow, rhythmic stroke of her clit, mixing his perceptions with Anders’, letting his middle finger slide lower and lower each time until it parted her lower lips. What he found there was warm and slick - Anders directed him to part them.

Hawke’s chorus raised its pitch, and her shoulders fell back into an arch. Her fingernails dug into the pads of her palms, and she allowed her legs to part completely to welcome them into her hearth. A silent, commanding gaze was all she would offer to signal for him to go on.

At last, their time had come - or it would, very soon. Slowly, with great care and appreciation, they entered her, returning once more to that sweet, familiar comfort of the fire that roared in her belly. It was a roaring fire she had offered, and as well what they received, bringing out a shared sigh of euphoric relief to the mage and his spirit companion. As she embraced him inside her, he reciprocated outside, once again giving one arm to Justice so they could hold her closer. “Lys, I _love_ you…” came a smoky whisper against her neck, rumbling with Justice’s presence, as he began a gradual, measured swing of his hips into hers, alternating each thrust with a hot breath.

Hawke’s stomach muscles almost immediately contracted as the first wave of pleasure hit her, forcing out moans that deepened in pitch and raised in volume. His name escaped her lips yet again, and her knuckles whitened from the tightness of her fists. The stare of hers that signaled him dissolved into her eyes closing tight against the wash of more excited tears. There was a heavy, sensual drumbeat in her song now, each beat coming in perfect sync with each thrust she felt from them.

It wove something primal around Justice, as if clothing him in flesh of his own. Every sound she made only brought their song further out of the Fade and into reality, where he could hear it with mortal ears. With their hands now gripping her shoulders, they increased their pace, each thrust reaching her depth quicker than the last until their breaths became panting gasps and groans surged out from their gut. With Justice’s strength, they were able to lift her hips from the bed and go deeper still.

Even Hawke’s control of her magic was lost in the spell Anders and Justice had cast on her. A spark flew from her fingers, then another, until a burst of mana burned through the laces binding her wrists. Now at last as free as she was meant to be, she clung to the healer as she reached the height of her climax.

Anders did not truly mind Hawke breaking free - he had been without her arms around him long enough. It was Justice, though, that felt the deepest effect when her song swelled into a refrain that, for these precious seconds, joined the three of them together in one united experience of soul and sense. It compelled them to make the aria a performance for a trio, with both seizing the vocal cords to deepen their own groans of ecstasy as their flesh spilled his male essence deep into her. They both went as limp as a rag doll, letting their cheek fall against Hawke’s waiting bosom and their vision fog over in a daze of satiation. 

“…Hold me, love,” Anders murmured, his words slurring together with blissful fatigue. With great effort, he rolled off, then back in with his back against her.

Hawke did not hesitate to do as he asked, hugging him tightly from behind. “Did you like it?” she asked, a little purr in the back of her throat as she tenderly stroked little circles into his belly with her fingertips.

“Mmm…” he answered, unable to put his pleasure into words at first. Justice settled his senses right below her hands as he felt their song slow into a gentle nocturne of freedom. “We’re free now, love…” Anders murmured, his voice gently cracking. 

Even if it were only true for this moment, it was _true_. They were _mages_ , one a so-called _abomination_ , entwined in one another’s arms, in a place where no Chantry, no Templars could tear them apart. There was no need for his manifesto here. 


	10. Final Chapter - Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music soothes the savage beast.

Hawke pressed her lips to the mage’s temple, continuing to bring her hands closer together as she wove a slow lullaby into his senses. It came out not just in her touch, but in a gentle humming against his ear. It wasn’t a song with a name or words or even a set measure, merely a strung-together series of notes that went on and on, lulling the mage and his spirit into a safe, restful space in the Fade. At last, when she felt his breathing slow, she let her hands gently form the shape of a heart over his stomach.

Anders could do nothing but purr himself as he dozed off, and Justice spread out into a glow under his skin, soaking up the memories lingering there. One idea seemed to sound louder than the others: this experience should be shared with all those born with the power to touch the Fade. Every mage deserved a peaceful rest, in a warm bed, with a full belly and the companionship of loved ones. He guided his vessel’s hand, skin alight with magic, down to wrap fingers around her wrist. The purring Anders had started continued, in the form of Justice letting out low, pleased little sounds from the movements of his breath. The rest of his waking awareness was wrapped in the soft harmony of closeness to Hawke. **“As pleasant as this is, Hawke…”** he observed, melancholy in his voice, **“We still have much to do. Justice never truly rests, as you are no doubt aware.”**

She gave Justice and his sleeping vessel a squeeze, letting her fingers lock together over his belly. “…Can I go set up your writing desk?” she asked, staring across the room at the desk covered in papers.

Already, he was swallowing another lump. **“I…still fear your absence. I must know you are still near.”** The vessel trapped one of Hawke’s ankles between his, pressing his feet against hers as if to hold on to her. 

An ache took root in Hawke’s heart at the sudden tremble in Justice’s voice. She hugged him tighter still, her thoughts ringing with a desire to shield him. The song was so powerful it shook in her chest, urging her to bring it to mortal life. She started to gently hum again - it brought an idea to her mind and a smile to her lips. The humming continued as she slowly moved from the bed, keeping her hands against Justice’s skin until she could no longer reach him. It evolved into a strange sort of meaningless string of sounds, a growing, changing melody that flowed wherever it desired, gently meandering in tone and pitch. As she did so, she gathered up the papers and stacked them in separate piles - finished pages in one, clean sheets in the other.

Justice was left completely spellbound by the sound - it was her song, brought at last to material reality. His vessel’s heart slowed in his chest, to a gentler but still living rhythm. Even when he did not feel the touch of her care-worn fingers or the softness of her tender lips, her presence was still there, just as strong as always. Though the words meant nothing to mortal ears, they wove a deep, inexorable substance into the spirit’s consciousness. It was nearly like binding, in the way that it pulled him along, but it wrapped him in layer after layer of solid strength and sureness. The soft lilting of her voice gilded his senses, as if he was bathed in warm liquid gold. The memories of every touch, every gently whispered word, and every devoted thought washed over him, streaming out from his mortal’s eyes.

At last, upon finishing the last arrangements of ink and quill, Hawke returned to her place at Justice’s side. She said nothing to signal her return, only taking her hand into both of his and warming it with her mana.

The moment he felt her skin contact his again, he seized her by the wrist and tugged her into his arms, digging his fingertips into her back until his nails scraped at her bare skin. Her song carried an edge of sharpness, a new sense of rebellion, and what could even be called pride. A mage’s pride, and a will to seek out the justice she and all mages deserved.

Hawke could not help but flinch as she felt the digging of nails in her back, but she still answered Justice’s embrace with one of her own, just as strong. With her hands tenderly cradling the back of his head, she guided him closer to her bosom, where the sound of her voice was replaced by the rhythm of her heart.

“We should let Anders rest,” she said softly, leaning back with him still against her. “His body must be so worn down…”

Justice let out a hum of agreement. **“Yes…our vessel has grown heavy and weary.”** He was forced to pause to draw breath, and let it out in his characteristic deep, rolling sigh. Anders’ consciousness was already resting rather well - his dream now was much sweeter than before, now cradled in Hawke’s tender songs. **“…And cold. H-he is–”** He was cut off by a harsh shiver that made his jaw involuntarily clench.

Before he could finish his sentence, Hawke had drawn the coverlet over his feet. “That better?”

The urge to shiver had stopped, but the draft remained. He reached for her hand, following it to the grip of fabric in her fingers. His efforts roused Anders’ awareness for a moment, just long enough to tug the sheets up to his neck. A shell of familiar warmth, edged with memories and scents, sank into his awareness. Justice at last curled up in Anders’ chest, under layer upon layer of shelter from the shadows in the corners of his mortal’s mind. Before he joined Anders in the Fade, he shifted a hand to place it over their stomach. A soft, slow melody of memory and sense played under his skin, of safety, peace and much-needed health and rest. At last, the spirit and the mage slipped away together into their own realm, a gentle, weary sigh spilling out across their lips. They were at last sleeping so deeply that Justice could return, in some form, to the Fade.

Hawke found herself unable to resist a smile at the sight. She offered a brushed kiss against the sleeping healer’s cheek, tucking the sheets in around his back to envelop him completely. Once she was satisfied he was secure, she dug through her armoire for her favorite traveling robes. Even with her lover and spirit at last at rest, there was still much to do in the city. She cast one last, fond look back to him before making her way out and downstairs.

Despite the warmth of his dream, Anders shivered as he sensed Justice finally arriving. It was a reflex reaction, by this point. The spirit had taken a form reflecting his own visage, and materialized next to him in the memory of his bed. “…Justice,” he greeted his companion, reaching out to offer him a sense of a hand being touched.

Justice responded by clasping the offered hand in his own. In that contact, they shared a recollection of Hawke’s presence, sensations woven too tightly together to distinguish but still able to fill them both with a pleasant glow.

“She’s wonderful,” Anders thought out loud, tucking his head in against the spirit’s shoulder.

Justice sighed a silent agreement, bathing his perceptions in the Fade’s familiar air. **“…Soft, spun gold. Warm, fiery.”** he uttered aloud, catching words from the air to put these harmonies to understanding. **“Like iron, sinews strong. A shelter, a shield, a sanctuary.”** There was something nearly soothing in the spirit’s voice as it echoed through their dream, building a web of his influence to defend them both from the intrusions of nightmares. **“Heart, pounding passion, unrestrained, pure. Words from tender lips, to the melody, true. Freedom desired, but unsaid - she knew.”**

Anders instantly understood the meaning of these words, and it brought a glow to his cheeks and a dreamy sigh from his chest. “Mmm…yeah, I know what you mean.”

Justice let his corporeal form fade away, walling off their mind even further. At the same time, a pair of strong, familiar arms hugged Anders’ waist from behind, drawing him back with a gentle tug.

“I’ve got you, love…” _her_ voice whispered, at the same time as warm fingertips brushed circles against his stomach, just below his rib cage. “You’re safe, I promise.”

He almost wanted to believe it was a demon, but Justice stirred under his skin - this was _his_ doing. He let out a comforted sigh, letting them remember even more of her. The little song she sang to Justice, though its words were meaningless, gave the spirit something to hang on to. At last, they shifted back until they felt her warmth curling around them. “Ah, sweetheart…” Anders murmured, taking one of her hands between his and letting its warmth stir in his palms. 

It was just a dream, but its comfort was just as real as flesh. In this place and this state, he needed no more to desire from his dream world. Justice would guard his mind while his body slumbered deep, gathering new mana for the work ahead of him. Maker, there was so much to do.


End file.
